


Show Me Your Colours

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Archie Andrews Needs a Hug, Darkest Minds AU, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, I wrote this sooooo long ago but it's my baby, Jughead Jones is a cutie, Memory Loss, Supernatural Elements, Superpowers, Telekinesis, core four fluff, kids to teens, mostly friendship but i mean definitely bughead when they grow up, repost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: Betty Cooper and her friends were supposed to grow up into like-minded and intelligent young people. That’s what every generation did. Except this time there’s a catch. This time her generation, ages nine to eighteen have changed. Something about them sparks fear in the eyes of parents and the entire adult population of Riverdale. This stems from a plague that wiped out most of America and Riverdale's children, only showing a selected few mercy. Although the kids who survived the disease are suddenly not to be trusted and forced into brutal camps designed to suppress the abnormality inside of them.or: darkest minds au
Relationships: Archie Andrews & Jughead Jones, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper & Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. The Van

**Author's Note:**

> repost! i wrote this around April 2017 so damn,,, a while ago. So v outdated. But enjoy! :)

* * *

Prologue.

Betty's ears were still ringing. She wasn't sure they'd ever stop ringing. She could still hear that noise as it tore into her eardrums, piercing her brain. She felt blood crusted under her nose and ears, in her mouth and rattling around in her body where the screeching of what she could only describe as a car alarm turned up to maximum, shredded her ears. Her head was still spinning when she came to, seconds after falling unconcious because of the pain. She wasn't sure what happened. All she remembered was Archie's howls of pain as he was dragged backwards by soldiers in black, trying to dig the heels of his trainers into the asphalt. The noise had been too much, catapulting her into a few precious seconds of darkness and silence. But it didn't last long. Before she knew it she was being forced into what looked like a van and shoved onto something hard and metal. It dug into her back and she had to bite back a cry threatening to rip from her raw throat.

The doors of the van slammed shut and Betty winced, too scared to open her eyes. She tried to move, but found her arms bound behind her back. Her bare feet only just brushed the sleek metal flooring of the van and she shuffled uncomfortably, letting out a soft whimper when she brushed shoulders with someone. "Archie?!" she cried out. She only wanted him. The only boy she had ever opened up to, the only person she felt safe with. She wanted to cry but was positive there were others trapped in the enclosed space with them. She counted four, including her, by their individual ragged breaths and whimpering. Eventaully she managed to open her eyes, squeezing them shut when she was blinded by a bright flurescent light illuminating the space. She found she was sitting on a bench, and when she looked to her right, Archie was next to her. He wasn't speaking, though neither was anyone else. He was staring straight forward, his eyes still wide open in shock. "I'm here." he all but whimpered, slowly turning his head so he could meet her eyes. He was terrified. She was too. Right then as nine year olds they could not have been more intimate as they shared the same fear of the future, of what was going to happen to them.

Betty flinched when a shaky giggle finally broke the overbearing silence. Something so foreign and unexpected that she nearly laughed herself.

She started across from her, her stomach dropping, when she saw two more huddled figures. When she squinted, she realized it was a boy and a girl. Her age. Both looking worse for wear. The girl looked a little older than Betty. She had raven dark hair cropped at her shoulders, and bright green eyes flickering with mischief. The girl regarded her with the slight curve of a smile on her lips. "Well, lookie here Glasshead," her voice was a soft murmur and Betty couldn't help being drawn to it. It had a tenderness to it, a kindness, But there was also fire and rebellion flaring in her eyes. Betty didn't know how much she needed the girl until right then. The girl let out a breathy laugh. "Looks like we have some fellow freakish friends."

Betty had no idea who the girl was talking to, though she expected it was the second huddled figure sitting next to the raven-haired girl. He was a small scrawny kid who also looked her age, with scruffy brown hair underneath a knitted beanie. The boy had his legs drawn to his chest and was visably shaking. She pratically felt the shivers crawling up and down his spine as he wrapped his arms tighter around his scuffed jeans. She wasn't expecting him to speak, but he slowly lifted his head from where he'd had it, chin resting on the bridges of his knees. He turned to the girl, dark eyes flaring as if in warning. Betty knew what she could do, what Archie Andrews could do. Her breath caught in the throat when she found herself watching the two kids as they faced each other, the girl's lips curled into a smirk and the boy glaring at her ruefully.

Though of course none of them could act on their desires. Both the boy and girl were like Betty, restrained by zip-ties. Both of them seemed to to come to the same conclusion and turned away from each other, twin looks of displeasure on their faces. With no ways of using their abilities, both of them ended up entangled in a stare-off which ended with the girl giggling, leaning forward as far as her restraints would let her, and blowing in his face. Betty expected the boy to get angry, but instead he stared at her, his dark expression flickering slightly to amusement. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders and let out a shaky breath.

"It's Jughead." the boy mumbled, shooting an irritated look at the raven haired girl, who seemed to thoroughly enjoy pushing his buttons. He glared at her for a while longer, though the look became less hostile and more playful the more the girl's smile widened. Eventaully he gave up, deciding to plant his face back between his legs, and let out a dramatic sigh. "You're annoying." he grumbled after a short silence.

The girl straightend in her seat, sticking her tongue out. "No, I'm Veronica." she introduced herself, flashing a smirk at Betty. "Veronica Lodge."

"Archie." Betty watched the raven haired girl- Veronica's- eyes flit over to where the boy sat next to her. His gaze was on the floor, his tone mumbled. "Archie Andrews."

"You already know my name." The boy Betty had appropriately nicknamed 'Beanie Boy' grumbled into his lap. Betty held her breath. That left her. Veronica was eyeing her curiously, she could feel Archie's gaze burning into the back of her head, and even Beanie Boy- Jughead- lifted his head, his dark eyes gazing at her warily. When she didn't, or rather couldn't reply, Archie cleared his throat and spoke up softly. "Her name is-" he started, but she cut in quickly. "Betty." she said, addressing not just the new kids, but Archie too. "My name's Betty Cooper."

Veronica giggled. "Your name's old." and before Betty could stop herself, she was half-smiling at the girl. "So's yours." she shot back, and the raven-haired girl pouted before giggling again. The van then fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Betty let her breath go. She felt her chest relax and her stomach muscles stopped convulsing. Then she took in her companions once again, and that same feeling came over her. She had never truely felt it at home, not when her mother scanned her every move and disapproved of almost everything she did. Betty had never really had friends. She had always found herself sitting in the background, overshadowed by girl's like Cheryl Blossom and her own sister. Betty scored a mediocre C grade on what could count as a social scale for nine year olds. But looking around the enclosed space she was in with three other kids, she couldn't help think that maybe this marked the start of something. She could see herself, years in the future, with these same kids. She could see them grow up into teenagers. Betty could almost hear the childish bickering, the shared secrets and jokes. She realized then, that Beanie Boy- Jughead- was watching her, his lips twisting into what she hoped would someday become a smile as bright as the lights in the van.

But she saw something else with the boy. Just like when she had seen her older self, she also saw him. She saw glimpses of hidden kisses and hand-holding, of teasing laugher and an emotion she was yet to discover. But it was with him. But it wasn't just that. Betty saw oranges and yellows ignite from the boy's hands, crawl up his arms and ignite his entire body. She saw his eyes, darker, almost completely dialated black, erupt into the brightest orange she had ever seen. She saw the boy losing control.

The boy looked away then, as if he had seen the same thing. Elizabeth Cooper huddled in her seat and found herself letting her head fall on Archie's shoulder. She was scared, more fearful than she had ever been in her entire life. But one look at the raven-haired girl Veronica, and she saw years of the feisty girl grabbing and squeezing her hand when she was scared and whispered promises at lights out that everything was going to be okay. She saw flickering reassuring glances and soft lips touching hers murmuring that she should teach Betty how to kiss. But there was also raised arms and a hurricane of objects flying around the girl as a halo of her dark hair flapped violently in her face, both arms lunged forward as she threw everything she had, all her power, at an unseen victim.

Finally, there was Archie. All she got from him was the promise that he would keep her safe, that he would keep them all safe. She saw hands lit up with briliant sapphire and the tense, determined and much older eyes of her neighbour. But she also saw piggy-backs and secret hand holding, a laugh so ridiculous it made her future self laugh harder. Betty saw pain in the future, she saw the others losing control of their impossible abilities, and a darkness that had started to consume them. But she also saw real laughter and a force so powerful between the four of them that it took her very breath away. Yes, Betty was scared of the future. She was scared of the van's destination, of what exactly was going to happen to her.

But there was also a sense of excitement igniting her, slowly pushing all the bad thoughts to the back of her mind. Because if her ability was correct, if she had seen the future, and what it held for the four of them, it meant that her ability- the thing inside her that had erased her from her own mother's memory, had also brought her something she had never asked for but never knew she actually wanted.

Friends.

Or more like...family.


	2. Archie

* * *

When Archie Andrews was nine years old, his world was tipped upside down, like a metaphorical carpet which symbolised _home, family_ and _safety_ being completely ripped from underneath his feet. He didn’t notice it at first. How could he? He was a kid, all he cared about was which Power Ranger was the strongest and just how could the moon follow him while he was in the car? Archie lived inside the bubble that children liked to build around themselves like a protective shield. Nothing could hurt him. And if any scary monsters were lurking in the shadows, all it took was hiding under the safety of his bed sheets with his face pressed against his pillow. The monsters never had a chance.

However, this wasn’t a monster. It wasn’t a six-foot-tall spider with long spindly legs and gnashing teeth. The ones you sometimes glimpse on the sci-fi channel. No, this was real life. Cold, hard reality. It came in the form of a disease which unfortunately only came to affect young children. It was unclear at that point, who exactly it affected. There was no age-rating as of yet. Except that it only seemed to affect kids Archie’s age. Eventually however, it would spread out across the ages from 9-15. And then it had a name. Though early on in the days when it was still being studied and treat like a brand new virus. It obtained its name when Thomas Bellmore, a curly haired nine year old with dreams of becoming the first man on mars, had died. Everyone suddenly knew Thomas’s name because it was scrawled across every news bulletin on every channel. They used a pretty unflattering picture of the kid where he had been mid-laugh as he tucked into an ice-cream.

 **“FIRST CHILD TO FALL VICTIM TO MYSTERIOUS DISEASE.” -** **_THE INDEPENDENT_ **

**_"A_ ** **_**RE O** UR NATION’S CHILDREN SAFE?”_ **

The headlines screamed as the same two sentences dominated online news articles and channels as the nation waited for the people in charge to speak. To tell them it was all going to be okay, and that they had people working on it. The truth was there were people working on it. Teams of scientists working behind the scenes trying to figure out the nature of the new virus. Though it wasn’t all going to be okay. America finally realized this when the death toll grew. There were candlelit vigils across the nation with a confirmed death rate of 500,000 kids and the number continued to rise across a period of five months.

Later, the disease that ripped through nearly 50% of America’s children, had a name. Idiopathic Adolescent Acute Neurodegeneration disorder. And for the kids who died of it, you could call it a relief. Because the ones who lived- the one’s who didn’t fall victim to the youth plague, developed something dangerous. Something they couldn’t control.

But that’s later on in the story.

Soon it was worldwide, with kids dying left right and centre. Cases were reported in Europe, Asia and Australia. It wasn’t just America, it soon spread across the planet, decimating kids across every background, every colour and nationality.

Photos of the lost were littering the news channels. Kids who had gone to school and not come home. As far as people knew there were no symptoms and it was impossible to know if your kid was next. Fred Andrews took measures into his own hands after Archie’s mother had left a few years prior and ran off with a man old enough to be her eldest son. So it was up to Archie’s father to protect his only son from the terrifying inevitability of what was soon to be called Bellmore Syndrome. He started Archie on a no-sugar diet which included no fat or fizzy drinks. Parents across the country were convinced if their child was healthy, there was no way they could catch the infection. But it soon came clear that it affected _everyone_. There was no way out. This came after Zoey Holland, the president's eleven year old daughter, had dropped dead at a press conference.

Of course Archie had no idea at this point. He was far too wrapped up in the latest Transformers movie and the Disney Channel to really care about world issues or this mysterious affliction which seemed to be spreading across The United States of America. Though even if he wanted to watch the news or listen to the radio, Fred Andrews disallowed it with a ban on anything electrical. Which would later become ironic for both father and son.

Archie should have been doing his homework, but there was something fascinating to him why Fred no longer let him watch TV. So that night, as his father had been slumped on the couch watching the president address the nation, Archie had wandered downstairs with an excuse already on his tongue if Fred caught him. He crouched behind the door and angled himself so he could see the TV mounted on the wall, and Fred couldn’t spot him. He shivered, wrapping his favourite blue blanket around himself for comfort. Something about his dad’s expression made him unable to stop shivering.

The whole news conference itself was frightening to him. News casters yelling into microphones as images of kids his age scrawled across the news ticker at the bottom of the screen. A part of him wanted to turn and run back upstairs. Back to the safety of his bed. But there was something brewing inside of him that wouldn’t let him go. He couldn’t look away.

Archie had never seen anybody die in his nine years of life. Maybe if he caught a sad drama on TV it would make him feel slightly off. He’d always felt uncomfortable when he had came downstairs in the middle of the night and glimpsed a tearful woman caressing the face of her lover on the mounted flat screen. But never in real life. He had never, ever seen someone die right in front of him. He was nine years old, he never had to think about life and death, or survival.

Until then, that was. Archie had watched as Zoey, the most famous eleven year old girl in America, had simply collapsed against her father. At first he thought she was tired and had maybe snuggled up to him for comfort. Except this wasn’t some half-hearted gesture of affection between father and daughter. Archie leaned forward, hazel eyes wide and curious. Curious because his father was staring at the screen with a look of hopelessness a nine year old couldn’t understand. He had to know why he wasn’t allowed to watch TV anymore. A little part of him, a growing monster inside his mind, told him _no. You don’t want to know._

She’d been there one minute, standing close to her father in a simple red dress with her small arms wrapped around herself for comfort. Her long blonde hair was pulled into neat pigtails brushing pale shoulders. She was known as the nation’s sweetheart, intelligent and a proud representative of the younger generation. Before the outbreak, she was always on the front of magazines and newspapers holding abandoned puppies and malnourished children from poverty stricken continents. Zoey had a trademark sweet smile and shining blue eyes that were somehow enough to reassure someone that everything was going to be okay.

She had that effect on people. But post outbreak, Zoey had lost her smile. She had been hidden from the public eye since the first kid died of Bellmore's. But that night there she was, looking almost as dead-eyed and hopeless as her father.

Nobody had really been paying attention to the president’s daughter, except Archie. He found comfort in the fact there was someone near his age on the television. He followed her gaze with his own, his lips forming a small smile when she looked directly into the camera.

The rest of the country’s focus was on the man himself, Richard Holland, a frail looking man with pale skin and greying hair who didn’t look fit enough to run a country. The dark circles under his eyes and sagging skin were tell tale signs that he was as clueless as the rest of the country.

“My fellow Americans,” Richard Holland began in a low, husky voice. Archie swore Zoey winced at the sound of her father’s voice. It sounded wrong. “I’d just like to offer my humblest-”

That’s when Zoey had collapsed. There had been no warning, no cry of pain or a sudden change of expression on her pale face. The whole country held their breath as Zoey Holland, daughter of the president, joined the ranks of kids who had fallen victim to the disease. And Archie saw it all. He saw her blue eyes roll back into her head, he saw her arms suddenly sag by her sides and her legs give way as she toppled into her father’s side before simply falling into a heap. Archie was standing suddenly. Rising with the blanket still wrapped around him. His gaze was stuck to the television as officials in black rushed to Zoey’s aid.

But she was just lying there, curled into herself. Her blonde hair framed her face like a halo. “Dad!” Archie couldn’t help it, the word came naturally when he was frightened, or alarmed. Archie couldn’t move. His feet were glued to the floor and his eyes still unable to tear themselves away from what was happening on the TV. The president was knelt next to his daughter and was yelling for the live feed to be cut off.

Fred was by his side in an instant, grabbing his shaking form and pressing the boy’s face against his chest, away from the TV, away from the truth. “You didn’t have to see that!” Fred Andrews was choking on his words as Archie sobbed into his chest. “You didn’t need to see that, you didn’t need to see that…” Fred stroked the boy’s hair, his heart in his throat as he repeated the same thing over and over again. Archie didn’t say anything, he only clung onto his father and tried not to think about what he had just witnessed. Eventually when he stopped crying and there was a damp patch on Fred’s shoulder, Archie stepped away from his father and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jumper and then proceeded to stare at his feet.

Fred folded his arms with a shaky sigh and tried his very best to smile reassuringly, but it was a broken smile and Archie knew it. “Archie,” he said softly, and the boy looked up slowly to meet his eyes. “That’s not here, okay?” he pointed to the TV, and he had to force himself to hold eye contact with Archie. “A few kids are getting sick across the country, but it’s not happening here, okay?” and Archie, being a naive nine year old who wanted to forget everything he had witnessed, nodded slowly before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Fred once again. “It won’t happen to you,” Fred murmured to himself rather than to his son, as the two embraced. “I won’t let anything happen to you, do you hear me?”

Fred didn’t stop repeating those words until his son had sagged against him, falling asleep in his arms.

* * *

Parents lied. Archie knew that. He’d lost count of how many times Fred Andrews had promised an injection wouldn’t hurt, or more lightheartedly- that the ice-cream truck played its melody when it was out of ice-cream. But this wasn’t lying about a two second injection or sweet treats. This was a lie that Archie had clung onto, and believed in so much that he forgot to look around. He forgot to _really_ take in his surroundings. Even as a nine year old kid. It was at lunch at school the next day when his dad’s words seemed to no longer mean anything.

He had been sitting in the cafeteria with his class as the kids, also unaware of the growing disaster around the world, had dug into their lunch boxes hungrily. Riverdale was a small town, with only around 1,500 children. So there had been a town meeting where Alice Cooper, head of the committee, had put a rule in place.

 **No technology** . It was after the incident where Archie witnessed the death of Zoey Holland, so Fred Andrews and the majority of parents were happy for that rule to be enforced. The second rule was a strict curfew. All kids had to be home by 5pm. Riverdale’s adults were confident that if they kept control over their future youth, they were sure they would not become sick.

Valerie Brown had been the first child in Riverdale to die. And she’d been sitting opposite Archie happily eating her lunch when it happened. Valerie, a small girl with honey coloured skin and fluffy black hair, had been locked in a debate over who was going to sing main vocals at the Junior Karaoke night, a tradition for Riverdale’s kids. Valerie had formed a band with Josie Mccoy, the Mayor's daughter, a stubborn but sweet girl with a passion for singing and Melody Valentine, a quiet girl with sleek black hair but a young prodigy in the making. The three of them normally entertained their classmates by bursting into song and doing dance routines on the playground.

“I don’t get it,” Valerie took a bite out of the burger she had been eating. “Why can’t I sing main vocals?” she turned to Josie, who was deep in conversation with Cheryl Blossom, a fiery red-head who pretty much ruled over the fourth grade. Cheryl stopped excitedly describing her recent vacation to Hawaii and narrowed her eyes at Valerie, jealousy twisting her sweet smile into a scowl. Josie just giggled and turned in her seat to face her friend, taking a huge bite out of her sandwich.

“Because I’m better at singing than you.” Josie smiled through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. Valerie just pulled a face and shoved her friend. “Ew, gross!”

Archie laughed at that and Valerie then went on to reach across the table and shove him. At least that was her intention. Except she never managed to even get her arm across her table. It all went in slow motion in Archie’s mind, as he recognized the sudden look- the eyes rolling back flashing white, the relaxing muscles, the light leaving her eyes. He'd seen it before.

The mood around the table twisted automatically. Kevin Keller, the sheriff’s son, was a small kid with black curly hair. He paled and shuffled uncomfortably on his seat on the bench. Archie leaned forward, eyes wide. “Valerie?” he murmured softly.

Valerie looked like she had meant to laugh, or maybe tell Archie to cut it out. But instead she simply paused for a second, her lips forming a small O before she let out a small breath just strong enough to blow strands of her hair from her eyes.

Most of the other kids were all thinking the same thing. She had fainted. It wasn’t uncommon for a kid to faint, especially in the late May heat. But Archie knew better.

“Valerie?” the small voice had came from a girl sitting next to him, a girl Archie was sure was his neighbour but they had never talked. He recognized her pastel jumpers and light blue backpack. Elizabeth Cooper. The girl had sunshine coloured hair pulled into a small ponytail and pale skin. He turned to the girl, eyes wide and questioning, matching hers, as Valerie Brown crashed down onto the table, causing everyone to jump up, crying out in panic. Reggie Mantle, a dark haired Asian kid, was the first one to state the obvious, but his remark was drowned out by a sudden ear piercing cacophony of shrieks from around the table, and then the whole hall. Kids from other tables were turning in confusion, and then they joined the shrill screech of dozens of terrified children once they saw the small girl sprawled across the table.

It wasn’t until Cheryl Blossom, eyes filling up with frightened tears, nudged Valerie’s limp form with her elbow. And then Cheryl let out a shrill scream.

Archie and the other kids at his table seemed to be paralysed by fear and confusion. Most of them were crying uncertainly, and looking around for an adult. Archie didn't cry. He simply stared at Valerie’s lifeless form still stretched across the cafeteria bench. Some of the kids were muttering to themselves, although the majority were crying so hard they could barely speak.

The Pastel girl next to Archie, Elizabeth Cooper, wasn’t crying either. She had her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut. “This isn’t happening..” she was whimpering to herself. Archie watched her as she tried to get to Valerie. She pushed through the other kids, her pink lips quivering. “Is Valerie okay?” she was saying over and over again. Not to anyone in particular. At that moment Elizabeth Cooper lacked parental support, and she just started screaming in panic, the quiet facade she had always hidden under splintering into pieces.

“Elizabeth!” It didn’t take long for Alice Cooper to arrive. She flew in like a hurricane, her blonde hair in its usual neat ponytail. She picked her daughter up and clutched her to her chest like any second now the girl would drop dead like Valerie. Archie had never liked Elizabeth’s mom. She always yelled at him for kicking his football into her rose garden, even when he hadn’t even been outside. Or owned a football. But like her daughter, Alice Cooper’s perception of perfection was shattered. She seemed to be trying to hold herself together as she stroked her daughter’s hair and whispered that _everything was going to be okay_. And then Elizabeth Cooper was being carried away, crying into her mother’s powder blue sweater.

“Give her some space!” soon enough, teachers were at the scene and kids were being pushed out of the way. Geraldine Grundy, Archie’s kindergarten teacher didn’t have much medical experience except from a vague knowledge of CPR, but Archie knew as he was being pushed back by a lunch lady, he knew just by watching the teacher drag Valerie’s motionless form off of the bench and lay her on the ground. “Archie, honey, why don't we give Valerie some space?” before he knew it he was being ushered away by a lunch lady, but couldn’t look away.

There was an audience of kids and teachers alike as Mrs Grundy pressed her ear to Valerie’s baby blue shirt and listened for a heartbeat that wasn't there.

When Valerie Brown was officially and quietly pronounced dead, among the adults, Archie felt his chest tighten. He let out a short gasp for breath and pawed his jeans pockets for his inhaler, but his hands were shaking too hard. His chest was tightening the more he tried to breath, his throat clogging up. He stumbled and let out a choked gasp for breath, his pale face blossoming scarlet, his wide eyes filling with tears. Eventually a teacher noticed him amongst the chaos, and was able to retrieve his inhaler, and help him take those life-saving puffs of precious air.

Archie had suffered from asthma since he was a baby. He hadn’t used his inhaler since Christmas, when he’d gotten so excited about getting the Power Rangers action figures which had haunted the Nickelodeon commercials, he had ended up losing his breath and ended up having to sit down and inhale and exhale deeply while puffing on his inhaler.

He started to calm down then, his chest relaxing and soon he was able to suck in shaky breaths of air. He couldn’t speak, however, Because now they were carrying Valerie away on a stretcher, her still form zipped into a grey bag. He started to breath heavily again, his throat closing up.

“Archie, honey, come with me.” the lunch lady was pulling on his arm now, almost desperately. Eventually he let her drag him out of the cafeteria and into the fourth grade classroom where the rest of his class were sitting in a state of shock. It didn’t have to be said. Archie knew as he slumped into his usual seat and pulled his knees to his chest. He vaguely heard someone, a teacher, speaking to the class, but he drowned it out, pressing his face into his lap and squeezing his eyes shut. No matter how hard he tried to imagine anything else, anything at all, he’d still see the moment the light left Valerie Brown’s eyes. The way she let out one last single breath which lingered in the air as her entire body sagged and fell limp. Archie shivered and pressed his fists tighter into his eyes to stop the tears. He couldn’t believe it. Valerie was his friend, and now...

_Valerie was dead._

_Valerie was dead?_ That fact wouldn’t settle in his mind. It wouldn't register in his thoughts,

The other kids were escorted out of the classroom when their parents rushed to collect them, and the news of Valerie Brown’s sudden death spread like wildfire. It became clear that this disease, this affliction affecting the world's kids, had reached Riverdale.

His father had lied to him. Except of course a nine year old couldn’t understand that his dad was trying to protect him. There was no safety anymore. Archie and the other kids were ticking timebombs. Fred came to collect him and didn’t say much on the way home. Archie looked out of the window, instead, ignoring any notion of his father beginning a conversation. He watched tree’s whizz by in a blur of forest green and spied the sun blazing in the sky. “Archie,” Fred began, tackling the steering wheel through traffic. Archie closed his eyes and willed himself not to answer. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to be scared anymore.

He wanted things to be how they were.

But of course they got worse. Three weeks from Valerie Brown’s death, the Center for Disease Control and Prevention had released a step-by-step guide on how to tell if your child was at risk or suffering from what was now officially Idiopathic Adolescent Acute Neurodegeneration disorder, or IAAN for short. But by then, half of Archie’s class was dead. He hadn’t seen Elizabeth Cooper since her mom had taken her away on the day of Valerie’s death. With every death, Archie seemed to mature way beyond his age, as he started to understand what was happening. Kids were dying. Kids in his class. Kids he knew and played with.

The remaining kids were kept at home, and eventually Fred decided that was best for his son too. Archie had waited for an explanation from his father that didn’t come. He only watched as Fred Andrews became more and more withdrawn from his son, and at times couldn’t even look Archie in the eye. Fred started to bury himself in his work, fobbing off Archie to any babysitter who was brave enough to take him. After a long three months, the notion of death didn’t mean anything anymore. If a kid had died in Riverdale, it almost became the usual.

He knew that all three kids on his street, kids he played with sometimes in the blistering summer’s, were dead. Eventually he became desensitized. When Fred eventually plucked up the courage to tell him that Midge wasn't able to play out _or would never play again_ he simply nodded and tried very hard not to cry. Soon enough, Archie began to wonder if he too was going to die. But miraculously, him and and a hundred odd other kids, stayed alive and healthy.

The leaflet had come through the post one Saturday morning, three weeks after the last kid in Riverdale had died. Since then it was quiet and Archie had been sitting in the living room with Reggie Mantle and Kevin Keller, two survivors from his class. Fred had insisted they play together while he worked in his study. But there was no television and no internet thanks to strict CIA monitored controls.The kids of Riverdale knew what was happening.

They knew the severity of the situation. But being kids, they turned their heads and pretended that everything was okay. Which was the twin expression’s on Kevin and Reggie’s faces when their parents dropped them off that morning. Reggie had started a conversation about football, which Kevin had happily joined in with, until Archie made the mistake of mentioning that the junior Bulldog football team, weren’t able to play anymore. That had killed the mood. The three boys had ended up sitting on the Andrews’ living room carpet in silence, until the leaflet was pushed through the letterbox with an audible _pshh_ which was enough to snap them out of it.

Archie knew he wasn’t allowed to read it the second he saw what was printed in bold on the front of the bright green card, which had been strictly fastened with four staples. He held the leaflet in shaking hands. The letters CDC were marked in the top left hand corner and below that, was his father's name.

“ **FOR THE ATTENTION OF FRED ANDREWS** .”

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Reggie Mantle was by his side, and Kevin Keller practically breathing down his neck. The two boys were eyeing the strange leaflet curiously.

“My dad said you should never open your parent's mail.” Kevin chirped. Reggie shoved him playfully. “Your dad’s lame!”

Archie shrugged his shoulders, so Reggie snatched it out of his grasp and tore open the leaflet. “Hey, that’s not yours to open!” Archie attempted to grab the leaflet off of the boy, but Reggie was too busy reading what was inside. Eventually, Reggie handed the leaflet back when Archie’s bottom lip started quivering. “Don’t be a baby,” Reggie rolled his eyes. “It was just loads of silly points that don’t make sense.” Archie frowned and looked at the leaflet for himself. “Let's see!” Kevin excitedly grabbed the leaflet for himself. But before the boy could read out the information, thankfully, Fred had came downstairs and confiscated the leaflet before the boys could understand the contents. He had instead given them something to do by letting them play with the old band equipment in the garage. It was an easy distraction. Fred took the leaflet, sat down and began to read.

**HOW TO RECOGNISE THE EARLY SYMPTOMS FOR IDIOPATHIC ADOLESCENT ACUTE NEURODEGENERATION DISORDER**

  
  


  * Your child becomes sullen and withdrawn from activities which he/she has enjoyed in the past.



  * Your child experiences headaches, nausea, vomiting or diarrhoea.



  * Your child experiences fainting spells, chronic migraines or is prone to violent outbursts.



  * Your child suddenly has abilities or behaviours that are inexplicable and can cause physical harm to themselves or others.



  
  


When Fred was done reading the leaflet, he folded it up and stuffed it in this pocket, before making his way back upstairs, a striking pain blossoming across his forehead. Archie wasn’t experiencing any symptoms for now, so _right now_ his son was safe. But Fred couldn’t help it. Instead of going back to work, or where he really wanted to go, in his bed where he could sleep off the brewing headache, he grabbed some snacks and drinks from the kitchen and made his way to the garage. His pace just that little bit faster every time he went over Archie’s behaviour in the last few weeks.

* * *

“So,” Reggie grabbed a mic stand excitedly, clinging onto the metal pole. “Who’s gonna sing?” the three boys sat in the Andrews’s garage. Reggie had already taken ownership of the mic stand, while Kevin was sitting on a worn out couch, half-halfheartedly plucking at an old, battered guitar. Archie was sitting at the drum kit gathering dust, his hands clutching drum sticks. “I guess I’m okay at singing?” he shrugged, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Dad loves it when I sing in the shower.” his smile morphed into a grin and Reggie rolled his eyes and moved away from the stand so the red-headed boy could take centre stage.

“Wait, what are you gonna sing?” Kevin jumped to the drumset once Archie had moved to the microphone. He picked up the fallen sticks and did his own little rendition of _Twinkle twinkle little star_ ending with a teeth rattling metallic smash on the cymbals. Archie winced slightly, even Reggie gritted his teeth. Archie shook his head, trying to tell himself the sudden shriek of pain in the back of his head was a simple headache. “Testing..” he tapped the microphone while the other boys watched. “I, uh..I don’t know what to sing.” his cheeks blossomed a scarlet colour and Reggie scoffed. “Archie, are you scared?” he laughed when Archie shook his head a bit too hard. Kevin giggled, pointing at Archie with one of the drumsticks. “Just sing anything!”

Archie took a deep breath, opening his mouth to sing. He’d heard his dad sing it a lot over the last few weeks. He wasn’t sure of the name or even the artist, he just knew some of the lyrics.  
  


But he never got to sing. The words were at the back of his throat, the melody in his head. He was about to sing, closing his eyes like he saw singers on the TV, like he saw Josie and-

Valerie. The name popped into his head, followed by the image of her falling forwards, the light flashing from her eyes like her very soul was being ripped out of her chest. He’d seen it in the president’s daughter too. The moment _it_ happened. He winced when another spike of pain zipped its way across his skull, and couldn’t help wondering it that’s how it started. Maybe Valerie felt the pain what he was feeling now.

Maybe that’s why she froze. Archie gripped the microphone stand so hard his small knuckles turned bright red. His eyes filled with tears. _Oh god_. He thought to himself. Panic started to kick-start his heart into a frenzy. Reggie and Kevin watched him, Reggie shooting a side glance at the other boy. “Archie, are you okay?” Kevin’s voice echoed Reggie’s. Both boys were thinking the same thing as Archie at that point. The reality of the situation, of their generation’s dilemma, seemed to finally hit the three boys.

 _Am I getting sick?_ Archie felt sweat coat his forehead and felt his breath quicken. Suddenly he knew what he wanted. He knew all he wanted right now. He wanted his dad. He wanted Valerie to be okay, he wanted the kids on his street to be alive. He wanted…..oh god, he wanted-

“Ow!” Archie seemed to snap out of it then, he jumped backwards with a yelp, his face bright red, “Something zapped me!” he backed away from the mic stand, glaring at his outstretched palm. He definitely wasn’t imagining it. He could feel bolts of electricity running through him, zipping through his entire body. His teeth chattered with the charge, gooseflesh prickled down his arms and legs. “What..” Archie was breathless. “What was that?”

Reggie and Kevin seemed to breath a collective sigh of relief. “What was what?” Reggie moved toward the mic stand and grabbed it himself with a sceptical smirk before he too let out a hiss, gritting his teeth and yanking his hand away like he’d grabbed a hot iron. Kevin wandered over. “What’s up?” with raised eyebrows he grabbed the stand with one hand while both Archie and Reggie held their breath.

But there was nothing. The sheriff’s son didn’t cry out or grit his teeth in pain. He moved his hand away before frowning at the two other boys. “I don’t get it.” he giggled nervously.

Archie still felt the electrical current in his both of his arms, in his hands and tingling in his fingertips. “It zapped me.” he said, pointing accusingly to the microphone stand. “And it zapped Reggie, didn’t it Reggie?!” he insisted. Reggie Mantle, always the sceptic, nodded enthusiastically. “It felt like a thousand bees were stinging me at the same time!”

Archie opened his mouth to describe how it felt to him, but shut it when a dull pain throbbed across his forehead. Not quite as painful as last time, but it was still there. Dormant. He shivered, glancing down at his hands. What if he really was getting sick? He shook his head then, denying it as soon as the thought crashed down on him. “Kevin can sing,” he said shakily, moving towards the second battered guitar belonging to his dad. “Since he didn’t get zapped.”

“Okay?” Kevin, still confused, shrugged and moved to the mic stand. He grabbed it experimentally and frowned. He tapped it a few times and tried copying what Archie did to get zapped, but there was nothing. He rested his chin on the mouthpiece and blew into it. “How come you guys got zapped?” he complained. Archie and Reggie shared a look, Reggie smirking. “Wait, so you _want_ it to zap you?”

Kevin didn’t want to seem jealous, or that he definitely felt left out, so he shrugged. “No.” he mumbled. He tapped the microphone stand a second time...just in case. Archie started to strum his father’s old guitar, plucking at each string. His fingers still felt tingly. “Whoa, you’re pretty good!” Reggie grinned, beckoning him to continue. “Really?” Archie, conscious of the fact that his fingers continued to buzz with static, strummed the guitar once again, and when his friends gave an appreciative yell, he jumped up and let out an excited cry, putting everything into his next twang.

Though as he wonkily strummed his way through a melody his dad had taught him, Archie caught sight of his hands working on the strings, on his fingers creating a half-hearted attempt at Oasis’s _Wonderwall_. Though something was wrong. There was a flash of sapphire coloured light which lit up the entire garage, and Archie dropped the guitar with a crash.

“Archie, your hands!” Reggie yelled. “Look at your-” he was cut off when the lights flickered off, leaving the only light source….Archie. The boy stood, feet glued to the ground as he stared down at his hands. Stared at sharp rivulets of electric blue light writhing between his fingertips, illuminating the three boys in a dull blue light. Reggie was the first to yell, followed by Kevin. Through Archie didn’t scream or yell.

He simply stared, transfixed, at his hands which had became pulsing balls of blue energy. Archie seemed to snap out of it then, freaking out and flailing his hands, stumbling backwards with a cry. Reggie and Kevin kept their distance, the two of them locked in a trance. Kevin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, his expression suggested both. Archie danced around in the darkness, the blue illuminating glow following him as he twirled around, wafting his hands desperately. His eyes burned with tears, his chest tightening the more bright his hands became. “Dad!” he yelped, tripping over a forgotten object lying on the floor. Fred Andrews was running in then, using his phone as a flashlight. “The whole streets power’s gone out!” he shouted breathlessly. “Archie, what did you-”

Fred had been angry. He’d thought for one screwed up second, that maybe things _were_ going back to normal and Archie had managed to short the streets power somehow. Except that hope had died in his throat in the form of a disapproving yell, the second he saw his son, Archie Andrews, stumbling around as seething energy balled between his clenched fists started to turn from electric blue to a boiling yellow. Archie was crying and upon seeing his dad, froze and waved his arm frantically. “It won’t stop!” he cried. “Make it stop, dad! Make it stop!”

Fred moved forwards hesitantly, a tiny part of him was _scared_ of his son. Scared of the impossible energy streaming through Archie’s hands. But he was a father. Archie was his only son, the only thing he had. He marched forwards and handed his phone, still beaming a bright light, to a startled Kevin, who took it, his eyes still wide and transfixed on Archie.

“Archie,” Fred grabbed the boy and shook him. Not enough to hurt, but enough to snap him out of it. “Archie, look at me. Try and calm down for me, okay?” Archie managed to make shaky eye-contact with his father for a second. His chest was heaving as he tried taking a deep breath, but yelping in fear when the energy seemed to glow brighter. “Make it _stop.”_ Archie whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. Fred knelt, keeping hold of his son’s sweaty hands. The energy didn’t seem to affect him. It felt like he was grabbing onto two boiling car batteries. But he held on.

“Archie, can you hear me?” the boy nodded frantically, refusing to open his eyes. Fred tried not to stare at his son’s hands, but it was incredibly difficult. He managed to tear his gaze away however, and squeezed Archie’s hands. “Only you can stop it, Archie.” he said, with an edge to his tone. It was killing him that he couldn’t help his son. But this..this was above anything he’d ever seen.

All he could do was speak softly to the boy. Through it seemed to be working as the stream of energy eventually dulled back to a buzz of electric blue sparks flickering across the boy’s hands.

“I can’t..I can’t!” Archie gasped for breath, trying to squeeze his fists tighter, but that only caused a bolt of energy to shoot from his hands and hit the wall. Fred only just managed to dive out of the way. Kevin jumped up with a cry, and Reggie hissed out a profanity he’d heard his parents say on a daily basis.

“Dad?!” Archie’s voice progressed into hysterics since he could no longer feel Fred’s hands grasping onto his own. “Come on Archie, try and calm down. Breathe.” Fred coaxed. He was standing well away from his son now. Wide eyes on the sparks fluttering in the darkness coming off of Archie’s hands. They lit up Archie’s face, the boy’s expression unreadable as his eyes stayed stubbornly shut.

Finally, Archie did as he was told. He took a deep breath and imagined the power leaving his hands. He imagined it getting sucked away like a vacuum. Like they did on cartoons.

“It’s working!” Kevin hissed. And it was. The energy balling in Archie’s hands suddenly dimmed to a more manageable blue.

Archie cracked one eye open, just in time to see the last sparks of energy zipping across his hands flash out of existence.

The lights in the garage, and then across the street, flickered back to life, just as Archie slumped into Fred’s arms with a shaky breath of relief. “What was that?” he whimpered into his father’s chest. “My hands...” he let go of Fred and backed away, staring down at his palms. There was no scorched flesh or physical proof that electricity had lit up the boy’s hands just a few minutes earlier, like a Christmas tree.

Fred gathered himself and told Reggie and Kevin to go upstairs, and then managed to drive them home with shaking hands. Archie sat in the backseat with gloves on. Before the two boys got out of the car, Fred cleared his throat as a notion for them for wait. “Maybe keep what happened to Archie to yourselves for a while,” Fred murmured, sending Archie a quick glance that he hoped was reassuring. Archie sat silently and didn’t say a word. He only stared down at his hands as if they were alien to him.

Kevin and Reggie got out of the car at their respective houses with promises not to say anything about Archie’s...incident, and Fred quickly manoeuvred his way through traffic, trying to get home as quickly as possible. Kids were getting sick and dying, he thought. Fair enough. But kids - Archie- somehow managing to create and coax electricity with his bare hands?!

It didn’t matter how many times Fred went over it in his head, what his son had done was impossible. He risked a glance at Archie as he pulled into the Andrews’ driveway. The boy was staring right back at him, brown eyes wide with fear. “Dad.” Archie murmured softly, and Fred didn’t even need to hear his son’s voice because his expression said it all.

“What’s happening to me?”


	3. Betty

* * *

Elizabeth Cooper turned nine years old on the day she was taken away. She half- wondered, when they were throwing her into the van with the only boy she’d opened up to, if all of this was in a way, good. After all she’d been treated like a baby her entire life. Her mother still expected her to address her as ‘mommy’ when Elizabeth knew that the kids in her class, at least the kids who were left, had stopped calling their parents _mommy_ and _daddy_ a long time ago.

It had been a mistake. She knew it had been a mistake the second it had came out of her mouth, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been wondering it since she had gotten up a few hours earlier. She knew her mother had a short fuse, and would get angry and irritated at almost everything. But she _had_ to know. Even if it was her birthday. Except her mother hadn’t really celebrated her birthday so far. There were no cards or presents. All she had gotten was a hug, followed by a whispered, “I’m so glad you’re alive, Elizabeth.” which she _guessed_ was enough.

She’d wandered into the kitchen where Alice Cooper had been sitting at the table on her phone. The women had seemingly been in deep concentration, so when she hoisted herself on a chair and leaned across the table to meet her mother’s eyes, the first thing Alice Cooper did was frown at her daughter disapprovingly.

“Why are you still in your pajamas?” Alice stared at the girl’s polka-dot ensemble and her dark eyes narrowed. “Elizabeth, go upstairs and change into something suitable, please.”

Elizabeth nodded with a tight smile. “Okay mommy, but first-” Elizabeth’s expression crumpled, her eyebrows furrowing when a familiar dull ache pounded through her skull. She managed to steel herself, however, gripping onto edges of her chair. She prayed her mother hadn’t noticed.

To her misfortune however, Alice Cooper had the beady and perceptive eyes of an eagle.

Before the girl could say or do anything, her mother was diving across the table with her palm going straight to her daughter’s forehead. “What is it, are you feeling unwell?” Alice’s eyebrows furrowed with concentration as both eyes scanned every inch of the girl. “Elizabeth, what have I told you?” her tone rose and Elizabeth felt herself shrink.

“Always tell you if I’m feeling sick, mommy.” she mumbled. A thousand times she had repeated that. She felt like one of her dad’s broken records. Before she could get a word in, Alice was grabbing the med-kit from the cupboard under the sink and digging around for the thermometer. Elizabeth folded her arms across her powder pink polka-dot pajama tee and shivered. She hadn’t said anything, didn’t dare if she was being honest, but a striking pain had been bothering her since she had woken up. It had torn her from a nightmare about giant grinning clowns, a raging pain ripping across her forehead which felt like someone was repeatedly slamming a book into her skull.

“Mom.” She closed her eyes for a second, praying away the dull throbbing in her temples. Then she blinked them open and stared directly at her mother, wincing when Alice brought out the thermometer. She hated that thing. It always tasted like pocket change and she was constantly scared she’d accidentally swallow it. “Where’s Polly?” the question regarding her older sister had been burning on her tongue all day. Only then had it drove her so crazy she’d blurted it without thinking of the consequences. Elizabeth hadn’t seen Polly, her thirteen year old sister, for nearly two days now. The last time she had seen her, she had caught her sister in her room, a pink cyclone of clothes in the air as Polly hurriedly packed all her clothes into a large pink suitcase. Betty didn’t comment on the fact that the clothes seemed to be staying suspended in the air, like on the cartoons she liked to watch on Saturday mornings. She didn’t really think much of it.

Alice Cooper adapted the look of horror on her expression. The type you would expect to see on a women who had just been told she had nine hours to live. The expression that Elizabeth knew well. It was the narrowed eyes and pained smile of a woman whose lifetime achievement was to make her daughters, or at least _Elizabeth’s_ life a living hell. Not intentional, however. She was protective, yes. But anyone in Riverdale knew that to protect her family, Alice Cooper would go to any means possible. Even if was breaking or defying the law. Although it was well known, Riverdale wasn’t your average town. Most of the residents had broken the law numerous times.

Alice folded her arms across her chest, another gesture Elizabeth knew well. “Elizabeth, Polly has gone away for a while,” she said, her bottom lip curling. Almost as if she was trying to hide her internal disgust. The girl looked confused, cocking her head. “Away?” she repeated with a frown. She took a small step back, as if her mother was a vicious predator. Alice looked like she might shout and tensed slightly, but when she caught her daughter’s expression, she relaxed and let out a soft sigh. “Okay, listen,” she took Elizabeth by the shoulders. “Do you remember what happened a couple of nights ago at dinner?”

And she did. She remembered sitting around the table after school, hungrily spooning mashed potatoes in the mouth while her older sister Polly proudly announced that she was going to be participating in this year’s spelling bee. Elizabeth had always been happy living under her sister’s shadow. Even at nine years of age she understood that she would never quite be as intelligent as Polly or as pretty as Polly.

She was okay with that. So she had listened intently as her older sister had boasted about how well she was doing in all of her classes and how she was auditioning for The River Vixens, the high school’s cheerleading squad. And then it had happened. She wasn’t quite sure _what_ exactly had happened. But one minute Polly had been excitedly waving her fork in the way of making a point about something, and the next minute her plate of half-eaten lasagna was swooping into the air, along with everyone else’s. Elizabeth had thought for a second that someone had bumped the table and everything was getting thrown into the air. But that thought diminished when the contents of the table- including _her_ dinner plate, didn’t fall back. Gravity didn’t yank them back down like it was supposed to.

Polly, after staring open-mouthed for a few seconds, as the contents of the dinner table floated in front of her like they were awaiting her orders, had let out a startled laugh, before slowly lowering her arms, her lips twisted into a startled grin. “Did I..?” whatever she was about to say was replaced with a frightened squeak as the second she lowered her arms, the assortment of dinner plates and cutlery seemed to remember they weren’t supposed to float in the air and crashed back down onto the table making Elizabeth nearly jump out of her skin.

Alice Cooper had been completely floored, staring at her own plate, suspended in mid-air. Before it had simply dropped back onto the table, spilling gravy all over the pristine white table cloth. Elizabeth had remembered her sister quietly excusing herself in a state of shock while her mother stared after her. After what felt like forever, Alice had managed to close her gaping mouth and blinked like she was waking from a dream. “Polly.” Alice murmured quietly, then louder when she seemed to catch a hold of herself. “Polly, come back here right now!” but Polly had managed to retreat upstairs. Elizabeth heard the light slam of her sister’s door shutting. Elizabeth cleared her throat and her gaze couldn’t seem to leave the bowl of rapidly melting ice-cream in the middle of the table. It seemed to have survived whatever happened.

“Mommy, could I have some ice-cream…”Elizabeth didn’t get to finish, because before she could get all her words out, Alice was jumping out of her seat and running after Polly. So Elizabeth took it upon herself to grab the melted dessert anyway. She licked her lips and smiled. It was the first time she had properly smiled in ages. Since her classmate Valerie had...had....she shook her head, blonde ringlets of her hair falling in her eyes. No, she refused to think about that. So Elizabeth Cooper, trying to ignore the raised voices from upstairs, stuck her spoon into the frozen moulds of delicious creamy dessert, and dug in. 

Back in the present, Alice held her daughter tightly. Almost as tightly as the day Valerie Brown died. “Elizabeth,” she let go of the nine-year-old and held her at arm's length, stroking the girl’s hair. “Polly is…” she drifted off, eyebrows furrowing. “Sick?” Elizabeth finished, eyes widening. Alice shook her head. “No! No, of course not! Your sister is...she’s special, honey.”

Elizabeth didn’t understand. But she nodded. “Am I going to get sick, mommy?” the dull pain in her temples didn’t seem to want to stop. But she didn’t say anything. If she even hinted at having a headache, her mother would surely ring a doctor. Alice sighed. “Polly is dangerous right now, honey,” she murmured, and the little girl’s eyes widened cartoon-like. “Am I dangerous?”

“Of course not!” Alice sounded like she was not only reassuring her daughter, but also herself. Elizabeth tried not to think about the fact that her mother couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Honey, you’re not sick,” Alice murmured and grabbed her daughter in another hug, squeezing Elizabeth against her chest tightly. Elizabeth breathed in and caught a whiff of her mother’s perfume. It smelt like the flowers in the garden. Elizabeth knew her mother was protective. She knew she would never have a normal life because Alice Cooper was like a tight metal vice around her neck, and she would never let go. But for that second she stopped resenting her mother for loving her as much as she did. Instead, she sighed into her mother’s chest and wrapped her arms around Alice tightly. “I love you, mommy,” she mumbled softly.

Elizabeth started to pull away, but suddenly the pain in her temples got progressively more severe. She tried to cry out, but it felt like her mouth was sewn shut, her scream locked inside her throat. She tried to move but her limbs were numb, still tightly wrapped around her mother. She tried to cry out a second time, but then she was seeing images flitting across her closed eyes as she squeezed them shut against the unruly pounding in her head. She was seeing a blonde haired girl with bright blue eyes, her lips stretched into an exhilarated grin as she mouthed ‘Higher!’ the image was moving more like a video now. Up and down as if from the point of view of a swing set. Then she saw herself again. But this time she looked older. More like Polly, if not even older than her sister. She saw herself taller, with a wary expression. Her face was streaked with dirt and grime and there was a sour expression on her lips. Her blonde hair was pulled into a scruffy ponytail and she wore a faded dark blue uniform with the letter B painted on the back.

The older version of Elizabeth didn’t speak. But she didn’t have to. Her eyes were wide in terror as she screamed something, her hands slamming against her ears, eyes squeezing shut. And then came the final flutter of images scattering across her mind as the image of her older self faded into nothing. This time she saw a bright light, followed this time by a voice. And she knew that voice. “I’ll call her Elizabeth.” the voice was soft and warm, and Elizabeth felt herself drawn to it. She reached out her arms, finding them to be themselves again. Her head throbbed, the oddest sensation in her stomach. And then she remembered where she was. She still felt her arms around her mother, but Alice had tensed around her embrace and was suddenly pulling away.

Elizabeth felt strange. The second her mother let go of her like she would a boiling iron. Searing pain ricocheted against her skull and she held her tummy. She blinked rapidly, hot tears in her eyes as the pain in her head worsened. She took a deep breath. She had to tell her mother before it got worse. But Alice Cooper seemed to be speechless for once. She stood, staring at her daughter, shaking her head, her normal striking narrowed gaze which constantly scanned her daughter, was blank. Gone was the steeliness of her eyes and that protective scowl.

“Mommy?” Elizabeth mumbled. The pain in her head seemed to be dulling slightly. Alice blinked suddenly, as if waking from a dream and regarded her daughter with a tight smile, yet there was something in her eyes. Something which scared Elizabeth to the core. That gleam she was used to, the disapproving look in her mother’s eyes when she did anything wrong, was gone.

Alice chortled softly and folded her arms, scanning Elizabeth head to toe. “I’m sorry, are you one of Polly’s friends?” she asked, and Elizabeth’s chest tightened. “What?” the girl whispered, taking a few shaky steps backwards. Alice frowned. “It’s not a hard question, dear.” her eyes hardened and she cleared her throat. “Are you one of my daughter’s friends?” and then confusion clouded the woman’s expression. “How did you get in here?”

Elizabeth stared at her mother, hoping this was a joke. She hoped that any minute now her mother would eventually break out into a smile and laugh, telling her it was all a joke. Then Polly would come out from her hiding place with a cake and presents. Because that’s what it was meant to be like. That’s what today, her ninth birthday, was supposed to be. But the woman didn’t laugh or smile or tell her it was a joke. In fact, she finally recognized the expression on the mother’s face. Anger. Alice sighed, wandering over to the kitchen table where her cell phone lay. Elizabeth tensed. Alice held it up like a weapon. “If you don’t tell me who you are and why you’re in my house, I’m calling the police.”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. Tears burned in her eyes. “Mommy, it’s me.” she said softly. Then her voice broke and she couldn’t speak. Alice frowned and stared at the little girl, before letting out a soft chuckle. “Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” her voice softened as the little girl grew more hysterical. Tears ran down her cheeks and she made little gasping noises as she attempted to breathe. Alice sighed. “Okay, stop the water-works.” she muttered. “Look, I’ve never seen you before in my life, so if this is a joke, honey, and someone put you up to this, you better tell me, now.” Every word spoken by her mother was like a knife digging in Elizabeth’s chest. She eventually caught a hold of herself and wiped her eyes. Alice studied her and no matter how hard Elizabeth tried to imagine that same _look_ in her mother’s eyes, she couldn’t.

And then Elizabeth knew. She had done something to her mother. She was sick like the others, like Polly. She managed to gather herself and forced a teary smile, taking a few steps backwards. Her legs were shaking. “You’re right,” she attempted a shaky laugh. “I- I’m one of Polly’s friends, and I wanted to p- prank you.” Elizabeth struggled through the lie, every word stumbled over. Alice’s eyes hardened. “Right. Who’s your mother? I’ll call them.” her fingers tightened around her cell. “What’s your name? You silly girl, playing games.” Alice seemed to be getting progressively angrier. “How could you joke around at a time like this?”

Elizabeth just stood there, shaking. Her mother’s words weren’t clearly registering in her mind. She had somehow made her mother forget her. Her own mother had forgotten her. How many times had she wished her mother would stop suffocating her?

But not like this. Elizabeth gritted her teeth. Oh god, not like this!

Her fists tightened at her sides. From now on, she wouldn't let anything hurt her. She wouldn't get close to anyone, enough to hurt them like she had her own mother. Elizabeth took a deep, shaky breath and smiled through the pain tearing her inside out and looked her mother directly in the eye for the last time. "Betty." she said clearly. "I'm Betty, and I'm sorry, Miss Cooper. I'll go now."

"At least take a coat." Alice had grabbed one of Polly's pink parkas flung carelessly over the side of a chair and hesitantly put it on her. No matter how hard Betty tried to suppress it, she remembered all the times her mother had put her coat on for her. She remembered Alice kneeling, like she was now, yanking the zip all the way up and muttering about the coat being useless, and if 'her Elizabeth' got a cold, she would be 'having words' with the store. But now, all her mother did was zip the coat up and pat her awkwardly on the shoulder. "You should think twice before pulling pranks, missy." Alice sounded a little more light-hearted. "Now hurry home before your mom starts to worry."

Betty nodded and blinked rapidly against the tears. She refused to cry. She was Betty Cooper, not Elizabeth. She wasn't a baby anymore.

Alice stared after her, as she shakily made her way out of the kitchen and to the front door. She wondered for a second if she could rush upstairs and grab a few valuables. Photo's of her family, a few trinkets, and her teddy bear she couldn't sleep without. But her mother was behind her, uncertainly following her as if wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say. She still held the cell in her hand.

Betty refused to look behind her. Refused to see the blank expression in her mother's eyes. "Was it that Andrews kid that put you up to this?" Alice suddenly asked, and Betty stiffened as she made her way outside. The door had been open, filtering in the last glimpses of sunlight as the sky reached Twilight. The kid from next door. She remembered. The red haired boy who she sat near in class, who was watching her as she broke down when Valerie Brown had collapsed at school. A name popped into her mind. Andrews. But she wasn't sure of his first name.

Betty didn't answer as she shut the door in her mother's face. Though Alice already had her cell to her ear the second she turned away. Betty wandered down the driveway and onto the sidewalk, looking left to right. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks before she could stop them. It suddenly came to her, knocked into her like a sharp gust of wind. She had nowhere to go. However, the coat was warm, protecting her against the bitter chill toying with her hair.

She wandered aimlessly down the sidewalk for a few minutes, stealing glanced behind her at the house she had grown up in. The house she was no longer welcome in.

"Elizabeth Cooper?" She turned sharply at the sudden voice, relief flooding through her when she saw Fred Andrews, her neighbor. It suddenly occurred to her that she had only walked a few steps and ended up standing outside the Andrews house. Betty smiled and tried not to grit her teeth against the chill running through her. She could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops against her hood and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Hi, Mr Andrews," she tried to say brightly, but her voice betrayed her. Her words were jittery. Fred Andrews was a nice man. He looked just like her dad would if he still lived with her, except Fred had a moustache and kind green eyes. Her dad's eyes had never been kind. Fred frowned at her, taking in her pyjamas underneath her coat and bare feet. "Elizabeth, are you okay?"

Before she could say anything, he gestured to his front door which was left ajar, a warm welcoming light streaming through. Betty could almost feel the warm fire. "Do you want to come inside for something to drink?" Fred smiled and took her hand. She yanked it away, letting out a soft whimper. What if she did the same thing she did to her mother to Fred Andrews?

She expected Fred to shrug and walk back inside, but instead the man nodded. "Okay, no hand holding," he laughed. "But you look freezing! you go to school with Archie, right?" he looked worried for a second. "And there's a curfew. How about you come inside and have a hot chocolate," his gaze drifted to her own house before he cleared his throat. "Then you can tell me what's going on." Betty couldn't believe it. Fred Andrews wasn't questioning why exactly she was wandering the streets alone in the evening when she lived next door. He seemed genuinely worried about her. Would he believe what had happened? Could she explain it?

"Okay," she found herself mumbling. She was tired, and shaky and her head was still hurting. Hot chocolate sounded good. Betty let Fred Andrews lead her inside. The second Fred shut the door, she felt the warmth and comfort of a home bleed into her and embraced it. "Follow me," Fred led her down the hall and she felt her chest relax as the warm carpet tickled her bare toes.

Betty admired the warm coloured paint on the walls and various photo frames showing a bright eyed boy with flaming red hair dotted around the walls. He was the boy from her class. Archie. Fred led her into the kitchen and her stomach tightened with nerves when she spotted the boy sitting at the kitchen table with yellow rubber gloves over his hands.

"Sit down Elizabeth, I'll make you a drink." Fred got to work pulling out mugs out of cupboards and rooted in the fridge for milk. Betty hesitated before taking a seat at the table. Archie Andrews was staring down at his own drink. His gaze didn't meet hers and that made her feel even more nervous. "So, you guys go to school together?" Fred aimed the question at his son cheerfully as he boiled water on the stove. Betty couldn't help glancing sideways at the small boy. He nodded his head once in answer and his hair fell in his eyes. Betty thought about asking why Archie had the rubber gloves. But one look at the boy's dark eyes, staring down into his mug, her mouth shut.

"Do you want whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles?" Fred addressed Betty, and she nodded eagerly. Her mother never let her have that. Apparently it was unhealthy. While Fred was readying the drinks, whistling to himself and trying to coax Archie to join in, Betty couldn't help glancing at the silent boy. He was never like that at school. He was pretty loud, if she remembered correctly.

But now he was completely mute, staring down at his drink which was surely getting cold. Betty frowned, glimpsing whipped cream fraying the edges of the cup. He hadn't even touched it. "There you go!" she couldn't help jumping when Fred Andrews plopped a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of her. It was decorated with whipped cream and sprinkled with chocolate shavings. "Thank you, Mr Andrews," she smiled up at him, and then her gaze quickly went to Archie, to see he was finally looking at her. But it wasn't kindness or a welcoming look in his eyes. She shivered. He was scrutinizing her. Waiting for something.

Betty felt her heart fall into her stomach. Did Archie Andrews know? She shivered once again as rain slammed harshly against the windows above the sink. Fred sat down with his own drink. It was a brown colour and she recognized the smell. Her mother drank it all the time.

Coffee. "It's pretty terrible weather outside, isn't it?" Fred took a sip of his drink and Betty took that as her cue to try her own. She picked up the mug, it was yellow and had a smiley face on it.

Betty nodded to Fred's statement and took a sip, and couldn't help softly murmuring when she felt the warm drink slide down her throat. It tasted amazing. She licked cream from her lips and smiled at Fred Andrews. "It's lovely," she said politely and Fred laughed. "I wish I could get a reaction like that out of Archie!" Betty smiled at that and once again her gaze slid over to the mute little boy. Finally the boy spoke. He mumbled it, his gaze never leaving his untouched drink. "It's just hot chocolate," Archie said softly. "There's nothing special about it."

"Now, Archie," Fred adapted a fatherly tone that Betty wasn't used to. "Don't be rude."

Archie’s expression went sour. “I wasn’t being rude,” he mumbled into his drink. “I was being truthful.” It only took a look from Fred to his son for the boy to sigh and shake his head, red hair rolling over his eyes. Betty tried to glimpse what colour they were, but it was hard to look at the boy. Archie Andrews had adapted a volatile demeanour. Everytime he made eye contact with Betty, his jaw clenched and he held his breath, as if he was waiting for something to explode.

Betty stared down into her own hot chocolate. The whipped cream had melted and was swimming around the chocolatey concoction. She took another hesitant sip. “So, Elizabeth,” Fred started, and she couldn’t help stiffening at the name. Archie seemed interested though. He looked up, regarding her curiously. His deep brown eyes nearly took her breath away. “Are there any problems at home?” Fred asked hastily.

Betty held her breath and tightened her grip around her mug. “I did something to my mom,” she whispered, then looking Fred Andrews directly in the eyes, she felt a familiar dull throbbing running across her forehead. “She doesn’t know who I am.” Fred and Archie both adopted twin looks of confusion. “Do you mean she lost her memory?” Fred asked softly. “Did she fall and hit her head?”

Betty shook her head, her voice breaking. “No. No, it was more than that! She- she didn’t remember who I was!” her voice was betraying her no matter how many times she told herself she was no longer Elizabeth, but Betty. Betty Cooper. Archie nodded in understanding, but his gaze still held her suspiciously. But there was an element of sympathy there too.

Fred nodded, seeming to understand. Which struck Betty as odd. “Elizabeth,” the man regarded her calmly. “Did you happen to feel anything when this happened?” Her eyes widened, and Fred let out a shaky breath, leaning back in his chair. Her reaction was enough to tell him what he needed to know. “I was right.” he muttered, cupping his chin thoughtfully.

Archie finally seemed interested. He sat up straight in his chair, gloved hands still faced down on the table. “Right about what?” he leaned forward, eyebrows quirking curiously.

Fred might have answered him. In fact, the man opened his mouth in means of hopefully a reassuring, yet understandable explanation. Except he never got the chance. The tense moment dragged on as Fred Andrews tried to figure out how exactly he was going to tell two nine year old children exactly what was happening, but a sudden loud knock on the Andrews’ door sent Betty jumping out of her seat and Archie impulsively shoving both of his arms behind his back.

“Fred Andrews!” a voice boomed. “We have reasons to believe you have PSI children in your possession,” as the voice continued to bark out words and phrases that neither Betty nor Archie understood, Fred jumped up and ushered them out of the kitchen. “Go upstairs,” Fred took hold of his son’s gloved hands and the boy nodded solemnly. “Take Elizabeth with you, okay?” Fred was remarkably calm and as soon as the kids were stumbling upstairs and out of sight, he was answering the door with a cool complexion. “Good evening.” he smiled politely at the visitors.

Betty’s heart was racing and she was sure it was going to beat right out of her chest. Archie had disappeared in one of the bedrooms and she was left to stumble around, ducking in and out of rooms, letting out frustrated hisses when she couldn’t spot a hiding place. Behind the shower curtain was too obvious. Under the bed? Betty found herself hovering in the doorway of what looked like Archie’s room.

She marvelled the galaxy walls and ceiling dotted with stars. “Hey!” a voice hissed, and her gaze found the boy, peeking out of his wardrobe. Archie’s jaw clenched and he looked like he was having some inner argument with himself. But eventually whatever the boy had been at war with himself over, seemed to dissipate. He gestured frantically with one gloved hand.

“In here, hurry!” he hissed. After hesitating, she made a run for it across the room and slipped inside the wardrobe, pressing herself against Archie’s clothes hung carelessly. A sleeve from a sweater brushed the top of her head, and she squeaked, stumbling over and slamming a hand over her mouth when she heard the creak of hurried footsteps storming up the stairs. She held her breath when footsteps passed Archie’s room and she felt the boy’s gloved fingers entwine with hers. The plastic chafed her fingers and she grasped for them, not just the boy’s hand, but something to hold onto, something to remind her to breathe.

“What can you do?” his voice was a barely audible whisper. The two of them let out twin muffled yelps when Betty knocked into the shelf where a shoebox fell from it, landing with a very audible thud. After a moment of the two of them standing, frozen in terror, Betty let out a breath of relief when the familiar pounding of boots thundered back down the stairs.

Betty could breathe again. Archie was first to let out a breath he had been holding. After an uncomfortable silence, Archie must have realized he was squeezing her hand so tightly she had to bite her lip to hold in a pained cry. He her go of her hand then, abruptly, like her mother had suddenly done when she had...she wasn’t sure what she had done to her mother.

“Sorry.” Archie murmured softly. “When I get scared, I..” he trailed off and instead let out a breathy sigh. Betty wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she was reaching out her hand in the darkness and grabbing his, squeezing hard. “I made my mommy forget me.” she said before she could stop herself. She heard the breath catch in his throat and this time he squeezed her hand. “I have lightening hands.” he said softly. Betty felt his grasp relax slightly.

She couldn’t help it. “Lightning hands,” she whispered. Then, “Like a superhero?”

Archie giggled softly. Betty found she loved that noise. “I guess like a superhero?” he whispered. The corners of her lips started to twitch into smile, but she stiffened at the familiar sound of boots crashing up the stairs. Betty flinched and pressed herself against the back of the wardrobe, grabbing a coat and throwing it over her head. Archie seemed to think that was a good idea too, because the next minute he was burying himself into his clothes rack. She heard his ragged breathing as they waited in tense silence. Archie swallowed and let out a frustrated hiss as voices rumbled outside the room. “Check everywhere!” a man was hollering orders and Archie heard the familiar voice of his dad just outside the door. Both him and Betty both held their breaths. “Your son, Archie Andrews,” a voice barked. “Where is he right now?”

Fred didn’t hesitate. “He’s living with his mother in Montreal,” he explained. “He was one of the lucky ones who didn’t get sick.”

The man made an acknowledging noise. “Right. And I’ve been informed you have Elizabeth Cooper, an infected PSI child, currently in your house.”

Fred made a choking noise which sounded too fake. “Why on earth would I have my neighbours daughter in my house?”

The man didn’t reply, and Fred didn’t speak for a long time. Archie fought the urge to peek out of the small crack slicing through the wardrobe. Betty let out a shaky breath and glanced at Archie who was fiddling with the yellow rubber gloves on his hands. With shaky fingers he pulled them off. “What are you…” Betty started to say, but she shut up when the man outside cleared his throat loudly. “Mr Andrews, if you are hiding PSI children in your house, and believe me we _will_ find them, then we have no choice than to arrest you for violating the new law, designated by the United States Government."

Fred laughed. “What law? Taking kids against their will because they’re sick?” There was a scuffle sound and Fred grunted. Archie lunged for the wardrobe doors but Betty grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back. The man’s voice had turned stone cold. Not that it was exactly sunshine and rainbows before Fred Andrews had gotten brave. “Do you realize what these kids _are_?” the man growled.

Betty felt her stomach turn and Archie let out a quivering breath. Fred didn’t answer this time. But the man wasn’t finished yet. “Just in case you _are_ hiding PSI children,” the man sounded cheery as he ordered a bunch of his men to surround the room. “We have a handy little device which has proved very helpful during capture of these dangerous kids,” the man explained. Betty and Archie shared a fearful look and Fred’s face paled when the man pulled out a simple object. It was small, about the size of your hand, and was sleek and black while curved at the edges. “An iPhone?” Fred quirked his eyebrows questioningly.

Archie turned to her at that moment, a quick fearful glance. "What's that?!" he hissed. His arms were by his sides now, fists clenched, determined. Betty swallowed in response, her throat raw. "I don't-" she started to say, but was cut off when _something_ stopped her in her tracks. Whatever she had meant to say became garbled speech in the back of her throat and it took her a few seconds to notice it. But then it was too late. She didn't see the strange man activate the device, she didn't see Archie fall to his knees, his expression twisting into agony, his hands slamming against his ears.

Betty didn't like to remember what happened next. She preferred to supress it, riight at the back of her mind, along with erasing her mother's memory of her. But it happened. What exactly happened wasn't completely clear. Because Archie's scream was so loud and frightening, cutting into her like a knife, deep into her eardrums. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't just Archie screaming. She found herself on her knees, heaving with her blonde hair dangling over her eyes. Her stomach was convulsing and her head- _oh god,_ _her head!_

She felt herself being grabbed, strong arms wrapping around her waist and yanking her from her hiding place, away from Archie. Though his screech was digging around in her mind, slicing through her ears. She felt it reverberate through her teeth and felt her entire body stiffen. She didn't even remember them throwing the doors to Archie's wardrobe. But then she was being dragged backwards, half-aware of Archie already gone out the door, the last she saw of him were his desperate fingers clinging to the doorframe.

 _that noise._ It crawled inside her, slamming into her ears, a noise so deafening that for a second she was propelled into darkness every few minutes, with the pain being too much to deal with. She felt like someone had stuck two hod rods into her brain. "Archie!" her mouth wouldn't work, her lips couldn't form words. The noise continued on, slamming into her eardrums like a cymbal. It wouldn't stop. It would never _ever_ stop. She felt herself being carried, and the distant shouts of Fred Andrews yelling and crying out for his son. But Archie was nowhere to be found. She wanted to move, she wanted to scream, but just her arms and legs wouldn't work, her head only being able to roll stupidly as her carrier threw her limp body over his shoulders.

And then she was suddenly aware. Far too aware. The noise stopped, just like that. And it was sweet, sweet bliss. Elizabeth Cooper felt her arms being pinned behind her back and cried out against the pain digging into her wrists. _This wasn't happening, this is a mistake. I'm not sick, I'm not sick!_ she screamed in her mind, knowing full-well she was lying to herself. She tasted blood in her mouth, coated on her teeth and at the back of her throat.

But she didn't dare spit. Finally, she was thrown into a tight enclosed space with grey walls, grey ceilings- grey everything. "Don't move!" a voice was growling in her ear, and she didn't. She didn't dare. She let _whoever they were_ throw her on the icy floor of the space. She was barefoot, she was numb, she just wanted her mother. _But she doesn't remember me_ a fleeting thought reminded her. _Nobody's coming for me._

"Sit down!" the same voice sent chills down her spine, and she was finally able to take in her surroundings- only just- as she was tied down to the bench. She thought for a second, just a single second, that _maybe_ someone had just been thrown beside her. She felt their body nudge hers as their struggling form jiggled the bench they had both ended up on.

Finally the hands all over her body, all over her arms as they roughly secured her shaking arms, were gone. The growl was gone, and so was the noise. A metallic slam startled her, followed by the noise of engines. She lurched forwards as her prison seemed to move, and she let out a whimper. Betty Cooper struggled in her seat, squeezing her eyes shut. Her stomach was unsteady, her heart pounding through her chest. But everything was silent. The noise was gone.

And one sickening thought struck her. A thought a nine-year-old, especially on her birthday, should never think.

_She wanted to die. Anything to escape the noise._

_She would rather die._


	4. Just sittin' in it

* * *

The van ride was slow and minutes turned into hours, dragging on into a monotone drone of engines in Betty’s ears that never seemed to stop.

Betty hadn't really been sleeping. She was too scared to sleep, and the pain from the bindings brutally forcing her arms behind her back wasn't helping. Except she was so tired. Her eyes couldn't stay open. So she had let herself drift off as the nausea from the moving van twisted her stomach into knots. Betty was sure she had only been asleep a few seconds. Just enough time to let herself drift into dream-world where she could play with her pony collection and organize teddy bear tea parties like she was supposed to do. Once again her eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused. The pain in her head was dulling to a manageable throb, which was in her case, a small positive.

Betty licked absently at her dry lips and tasted pocket change. But she knew better. It was blood. The memory of the ear-splitting screech decimating her mind made her wince, and she shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. She could still taste dry blood on her upper lip and she had to fight to keep the sudden onslaught of nausea at bay. She only tasted blood when she had been brave enough to lick a papercut, even when her mother had told her strictly not to. But this time it was no accidental droplet touching her tongue and making her gag. This time she felt it splattered all over her lips and nose, even in her ears. It scared her terribly.

Where had all that blood come from? Had it been from the noise? Would it happen again? She shivered and pressed her lips together, feeling the coating of crusted scarlet. Betty had never been religious, only praying to a god when she had wanted a Barbie doll or for Polly to not find her hidden stash of candy under her bed. But those things were so _childish_ to her now. This time Betty Cooper closed her eyes and silently prayed for that noise to never _ever_ come back.

The van ride had been long, and she had managed to stay awake through most of it, except from occasionally drifting asleep on Archie's shoulder. Betty sat up straight for what felt like the hundredth time, blowing blonde strands of her hair out of her eyes and blinking rapidly against the excruciating light blinding her. No matter how hard she tried she could not force her mind to slumber.

It still looked dark outside from what she could see filtering through gaps in the back and front of the pick-up. She sat there for a few minutes, staring down at her toes that had gone an unhealthy shade of red. She hastily tried to move her little toe and found she could not. After coming to the realization that she was completely numb, Betty decided the only way she would keep herself from breaking down, was to confide in her new companions. She opened her mouth and coughed, her chest rattling, before whispering, "What are we going to do?" she had said, meaning it to be the strong voice of her mother who was always completely in control. But she wasn't her mother. She was an only-just-turned-nine year old girl scared out of her wits tied up in a van with three strangers. Though not exactly strangers anymore. These kids were all she had. These kids were the only ones stopping her from losing it. Though her earlier question was met with a silence so deafening it hurt her ears. So, channelling her mother, Betty tried again. This time she made absolute sure her voice didn't quiver. "What's going to happen to us?"

Still no reply. Though it wasn't because her voice was a soft murmur, like an incoherent whisper in the breeze. When she looked around the small space they had all been forced into, she noticed Veronica Lodge, the raven-haired girl with the sparkly green eyes and devious smirk, hadn't said anything or giggled in a while. In fact, all three of her fellow freakish friends, were locked in a sweet vacuum of silence with the only sound their breaths rattling in sync with each other. Betty felt a flash of something she'd always felt, but never understood because she was too young. But things were different now. It was a new world, and in this new world, she only had these three left.

Veronica wasn't speaking because the small girl had huddled into her bench-companion, the dark eyed Jughead, who had also fallen victim to slumber. His head hung low against his chest, his unruly hair in his eyes. The only way you could tell he wasn't dead was the soft murmurs he made as he slept soundly. Veronica hadn't taken 'No' for an answer when asking the boy if she could use him as a temporary pillow. She too was sleeping, tangles of her dark hair falling in her eyes which only just hidden a sleepy smile as she nestled into the sleeping boy's shoulder. Betty let a small smile creep onto her lips as the sleeping boy's last words echoed in her mind. The ones he had sleepily muttered to Veronica as he had tried his utmost to keep his eyes open. As chats went, they weren't that common in the first few hours of being locked in an enclosed space being driven to god-knows where. Veronica Lodge, However, had surprised Betty when she had made it her life's mission to make the ride as interesting as possible.

So it was no surprise after a half-hearted game of 'I Spy' which ended pretty quickly because there was nothing in the van but the same grey walls trapping them, and the metal benches they sat on, that Jughead had decided that sleep was his only getaway from his extremely optimistic and at times just plain annoying, bench companion. "I'm going to sleep now." he had interrupted the girl as she attempted to explain to Archie the rules of her newly made up game. Though the redhead still seemed to be locked permanently in a state of shock. Only nodding his head at the appropriate times as the strange girl chattered excitedly.

Jughead however, wasn't as polite as Archie. "Please don't sleep on me." the boy had grumbled, before letting his head droop. Betty had wondered how on earth the boy was planning to sleep. Like her and the others, his arms were strictly restricted behind his back. She only knew of sleeping in her bed at home, both of her arms nestling her head as she slept with her stuffed toy tucked under the sheets with her. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Even if Archie Andrews did act as a pretty good human pillow.

But with Jughead, there was only his thin shirt that could pass as something warm he could hunch into. Betty watched, slightly curious, as the boy simply let his head drop and foundshe could not tear her gaze from the boy, Betty had no idea. Maybe she related to him. She wondered if he could too could no longer feel his toes.

Within moments, the boy had been asleep, and Veronica had automatically leaned into him with a giggle, nuzzling her body into his. Betty had waited for a reaction from the boy, but he stayed silent. They had been like that for who knew how long, the two of them cuddled into each other for warmth. Betty's gaze then went to the Obsidian haired girl, to Jughead who closed his eyes, his chest expanding as he let out a final irritated sigh. Betty couldn't seem to tear her gaze from the boy. She noticed he too was barefoot. His toes tickled the smooth metal flooring of the van and she stared down at her own. He must feel as numb as her. He was only in a thin t-shirt and frayed jeans. The only item of clothing that could be eminating warmth to him right now could only be the grey knitted beanie which was nestled on top of his head of short unruly curls of dark hair.

A thought kept bugging Betty as she her gaze flitted to and from Veronica. It seemed like the girl was _enjoying_ herself. Betty told herself that the girl was like herself, Archie, and Jughead. She was dealing with it in her own way. Though Veronica's 'way' was incredibly odd. Betty sometimes swore she thought the facade that the girl had built around herself, crumble. She'd catch a sudden look of fear or desperation, like no matter how much the girl talked, she would never be able to talk her way out of this situation. But watching Veronica now as the girl slept soundly against Jughead, she found all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around the girl and hold her close. _No._ Betty flinched at the thought. She would never touch anyone ever again.

 _My hands._ Betty thought to herself, dully. _My hands are the reason why I'm here._ She shuffled on the bench, her expression twisting, her eyes filling with tears, when she found she could no longer feel them. They might as well have been dead weights not even attached to her.

 _But it’s good._ She managed to remind herself, wiping her runny nose on the front of her pajama t-shirt. _If I can't use my hands, I can't hurt anyone._ She held onto that mantra for a while as she watched the two kids opposite her, sleep. Bits and pieces of another short-lived conversation played again and again in her head so she had something to think about. She recalled Veronica letting her head tip back, strands of her sooty black hair falling in her eyes as she giggled at the three of them. "Lighten up!" she blew a few stubborn strands of hair from her lips. Jughead had turned to look at her with an expression Betty had never seen before. Especially not in the eyes of a nine year old kid. Archie had mirrored it, only choosing to participate in the conversation, to let out a scoff of disgust before closing his eyes and ducking his head.

Jughead's gaze had been on Archie for a second and had lingered, the boy looked like he might say something, but instead his expression had hardened. "I don't get it," he had muttered, twisting around to meet Veronica's ever-present smile. "Why are you so happy?"

Veronica let out a short laugh, before her bright eyes had flickered between each of them, settling on Betty as her smile widened. "Are you kidding?" she had hissed in a 'Duh!' tone. Then she gestured, shuffling her bound wrists together, excitedly. "We're like Superheroes!" she squealed, and Jughead's frown deepened. Betty swore she heard Archie mutter something under his breath. Though Betty knew better. This wasn't Summer Camp. She still heard that noise at the back of her head as it had ripped into her, completely incapacitating her. But she had a feeling Veronica knew what was happening. She knew how bad of a situation they were in. But like any other scared kid, Veronica was trying her best to sugar-coat it so both her new friends and _herself_ wouldn't believe in the truth. What was truly happening to them.

"Superheroes." Jughead had repeated in a voice so deadpan he wasn't even trying to be nice anymore. "Sure."

"Oh, really?!" Veronica had been quick to shoot back, her sweet smile twisting into a snarl. Betty jumped a little in her seat and even Archie looked up warily. His eyes were red and swollen and Betty's heart dropped. He'd been crying.

“I'm trying to sleep.” Archie had mumbled, his dull eyes narrowed at the kids opposite him. They both ignored him.

"Well, Mr MEANIE," Veronica had put so much emphasis on the word 'meanie' that spit had managed to dribble down her chin. She didn't seem to care. "What do YOU think we are?" Jughead hadn't answered that, only planting his face back between his knees with a mumbled, "Please stop talking." Veronica had taken that as her own victory. Meaning she was right. Betty had a funny feeling there were a lot more arguments between the two of them to come in the future. Though perhaps more light-hearted the more they got older.

"We're superheroes," Veronica had gushed excitedly. "At least that's what my daddy told me when I threw the maid into the swimming pool-"

Veronica's voice still echoed in Betty's mind, as now, back in the present, she found herself still staring at the dark-haired girl as she slept. There was something about her, Betty realized. Veronica Lodge was the girl she wanted to be. Strong. Behind the sweet giggles and flickering smiles Veronica Lodge had a fire in her that Betty had never felt. She had been able to coax a smile out of the dark eyed Jughead, even when he had looked ready to use whatever ability he had, on the girl. But he hadn't. Because Veronica knew how to stand up for herself without having to shout and yell, like kids in Betty's class back in the old days.

 _Superheroes_. Betty recalled the girl's words as she watched the small raven-haired girl nuzzle further into Jughead's neck. Veronica had looked so _sure_ that they were. So Betty would have to take her word for it. But looking around at her sleeping companions, Betty realized they were anything but Superheroes. They were four kids huddled in a van, tied up. Where were their capes? Betty was almost 100% sure she didn't have spiderman’s control or batman’s fists. Betty regarded Archie's huddled form as he slept, his red hair sticking out everywhere. Then her eyes flickered over to Jughead and Veronica. _Some superheroes._

A sudden unexpected giggle suddenly erupted in her chest, threatening to tear from her lips as she tried to imagine either of them wearing a cape. Jughead, never. She smiled softly. _Veronica?_ Her eyes strayed on the girl. _Maybe_.

She jumped a little when Jughead murmured in his sleep, and she found herself smiling once again. Veronica mumbled something too and nuzzled closer into the boy.

Secretly, Betty was eagerly awaiting the fallout when the boy woke up, finding Veronica huddled into him. Until then, she let herself drift off again. She forgot about how cold it was in the van, how her toes were numb and how her stomach was empty. How the zip ties binding her wrists together were digging so harshly into her skin that she was couldn't even feel her hands anymore. Betty forced all of that to the back of her mind and let her body relax into Archie who was curled into himself like an animal she'd see sometimes on The Discovery Channel. His warmth managed to seep into her as she gently pressed her shaking body into the boy's slumped form. She itched to be able to use her arms to wrap around him and create more warmth, but settled for burying her head in the thick material of his sweatshirt, and for a few minutes Betty was able to fall into a pre-sleep state, gently coaxed by the movement of the van. Her stomach finally calmed down and the nausea plaguing her eventually passed. Betty felt her entire body relax as she finally gave into her exhaustion, she huddled further into Archie's sweater, and her eyelids finally fluttered shut.

She dreamed of her ninth birthday. What it should have been, and what it never was.

-

Things that would be considered normal like sleep and peace were foreign concepts in this new world. The van lurched to a such an abrupt halt that she felt herself slam hard into Archie. He in turn let out a small cry, whipping his head up, eyes wide and wild as he tried to gather his bearings. He didn’t even hear Betty manage to hiss out an apology through her teeth.

At the same moment, Veronica and Jughead had both sprang awake, the two of them briefly sharing a look of distaste as they realized they had been practically sleeping on each other. Betty watched Jughead’s lip curl slightly, eyes narrowing. “I told you not to-” he started to growl, but Archie interrupted him with hiss of frustration. The redhead leaned forward, and at that moment the four of them went silent and listened out for anything. When they heard nothing but the idling engines, Archie let out a shuddering breath. “We’ve stopped.”

Before any of them could answer, the doors to the van flung open, a gust of freezing cold wind sending Betty’s hair flying behind her. She let out a gasp as she felt multiple shivers flying up and down her spine. She wanted to run. She considered it, managing to glimpse through the pelting rain and pitch black sky. But she saw nothing. No lights. She glanced around for a second, taking in the expression of the others. Which mirrored hers. Completely terrified. Betty felt a murmur of white noise envelope her ears, any sound completely drowned out by her own mind.

The van had parked in seemingly the middle of nowhere, where there was nothing but a stretch of field which went on forever.

Suddenly there was a figure approaching. No, not a figure, a man. But to four nine year old’s he was a monster trying to grab them and drag them into their own personal nightmares. Betty tried to scramble back into Archie, but her restraints made that nearly impossible. Eventually the white noise faded back into real-sounding noises, and she flinched as the man’s gruff voice filled her ears with only one simple word. “Out.” he ordered the four of them, shining a torch inside the small space. Betty didn’t understand why he needed another light, the back of the van was already lit up enough to illuminate a football stadium. When none of them moved, Betty and Archie, Veronica and Jughead, sitting opposite each other, staring at the floor, the man let out a hiss of frustration. 

“I said,” he tugged at something on his belt and Archie let out a startled cry. “Get _out_ of the fucking van.” Betty winced at that word. She heard her mother say it a lot. Though any childish rebellion flaring in any of them at that moment, quickly dispersed. Betty jumped up before she knew what she was doing, and stumbled, unable to grasp her balance with no use of her arms. Archie was beside her, making sure it was him she fell into, and not toppling out into the dark.

Veronica and Jughead stood up too, Veronica’s shoulder brushing the boy’s, as if the girl was silently screaming, _don’t leave me_ at him, at all of them. A simple shoulder bump from the boy reassured her that that wasn’t ever going to happen. The man wore all black and a balaclava covered his face, though she recognized the US army print on his jacket. “I don’t want any trouble.” the man grumbled at the four of them. “You’re authorized to come with me.”

Betty caught Veronica’s expression. A fearful look lit up her green eyes and they narrowed. The girl looked like she might have wanted to say something, but Jughead nudged her slightly. Just hard enough to stop her.

Then Betty was being grabbed and carried out of the van. She didn't resist, because, well she _couldn’t_. Her arms were still restricted and she figured trying to get away now could possibly result in punishment. So she let herself be carried. The man smelt like shoe polish and rich hair gel. Betty could practically taste it in her mouth and resisted the urge to gag. They were hauled out one by one and forced to stand in a small line. Betty was shaking as rain dripped down her face. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself. The coat her mom had given her was only just keeping her from crying out in pain as the cold filtered in through her bare toes sinking into the dirt. Archie and Veronica were lucky to be wearing shoes. Betty caught Jughead’s eyes as he gritted his teeth against the wind lashing across his face.

 _Superheroes,_ Betty thought bitterly. Superheroes weren't tied up and forced to sit in the pouring rain. _No, Veronica._ Betty glanced at the girl, on her knees next to Jughead. Veronica's head was bowed, her dark hair hid her face but she was shaking. _We're not superheroes_ , Betty thought darkly. Another gust of wind nearly blew her off her feet. _We're monsters._

“Right then,” the man addressed the four of them. “Let’s get you to camp.”

* * *

Betty caught Veronica’s gaze light up, and her lips, despite everything, curved slightly. “You mean like Summer camp?” she asked, and Betty heard Archie start to sob beside her. Betty stayed frozen. Jughead stared at the ground, or rather his feet slicked with dirt and grass, and muttered something incoherent. The man just smiled, and Betty would _never_ forget that smile. It was the grin of a predator after its prey, a shark after a fisherman. “You could call it Summer Camp,” the man smirked before pulling out a familiar device out of his pocket and Betty’s heart stopped.

_No._ She whipped her head back, her hair already soaking wet strands in her eyes. She scanned wildly for a way out, any way away from here. But there was only darkness. Just the darkness, and the blinding white of the torch the guard was shining directly in the kid’s eyes.

The sound of engines startled her, though not just her. Archie, still sobbing to himself, stumbled into her when the roar sounded behind the four of them. Betty didn't dare look around. Her gaze was instead glued to the device in the man’s hands. He held it like a weapon.

“Give me five minutes!” the man yelled to someone behind her who she couldn’t see. His voice tore into Betty's brain. Not as bad as the _noise_ but it still made her wince. The man noticed and smirked, holding up the device. “Noise.” he sounded triumphant while a psychotic grin twisted his lips as he eyed all four of them. “We’ve done some little experiments on your freak brains, and it turns out loud noise can affect you _pretty_ bad.” his grin grew and he pressed a button on the device- Betty felt sick and opened her mouth to cry in protest, but the man’s sickening grin didn’t falter or disappear. “I love this part.”

A familiar sense of dread filled her.

_We’re just kids!_ She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream it until her throat was raw, until the man was on the ground, helpless like her, like them. She glared at the man and clenched her fists in their bindings. She wanted to hurt him, Betty realized. She wanted him to _suffer_.

Except the man wasn’t done yet. Oh no, he was _far_ from done.

Archie was first. He let out a ear-piercing shriek and dropped to the ground, followed by Veronica and Jughead and before she knew what was happening, the noise was tearing into her again. She felt her knees give way and face planted the ground getting a taste of dirt and gravel. Betty let herself lay there, her face smashed against the ground. She had no way of covering her ears, no way of getting away. No way of escape. She squirmed on the ground, her whole body convulsing against the weaponised screech as it rattled her brain. She was going to die, she thought. _He’s going to kill us. He’s really going to kill us_.

But just as quickly as it had started, the noise stopped, leaving the four of them drenched in sweat and quivering on the ground, any rebellion that had ever even flickered in each of them, gone. “That’s what happens if you don’t follow my orders.” The man’s voice was almost a _relief_ as it flooded Betty’s ears. She sat up when he man told her to, she nodded her head obediently when he drawled a bunch of instructions which didn’t make any sense to her.

She sat on her knees while her ears rang and tried to understand what the man was saying, but everything went in one ear and out the other. His voice became almost an echo, a faint murmur, as she sat in the dirt trying hard not to cry. The screech was still in her ears, the ghost of it, still haunting her. Her stomach was still dancing and she felt a trickle of warmth leak down her neck.

She was bleeding again. But looking at the others, just a simple side glance at Archie beside her, her stomach clenching once again when she caught a streak of red oozing from his ear. No matter how hard she tried to catch the boy’s eye, Archie wouldn’t look at her. Instead he stared straight forwards. His gaze not even on the soldier, but behind him, straight into the darkness.

The engines. She suddenly remembered. What were they? She risked a glance behind her and found herself staring at a bright yellow school bus. Idling in the dark. Except it wasn’t an ordinary school bus, like the ones she took sometimes. This one had black windows and an array of soldiers surrounding it like the bus itself was dangerous.

“Who’s first?” the man snapped her out of it. She turned her head back around, just in time to see the man grab hold of Archie’s shoulder and yank him to his feet. The boy stumbled and almost fell, but the man was tugging him up quickly by the scruff of his shirt. “Try anything kid, and I use it.” the man threatened Archie with the device, and Archie nodded compliantly.

The man then brought out a second device, this time it reminded Betty of a flashlight. Except it was chunkier and had buttons covering its surface. Archie took a few wary steps backwards, but the man dragged him back. “Keep still.” the man muttered, before simply holding the device in front of the boy’s face. Archie kept his mouth shut, but his eyes were wide with terror as they flitted from the device to the man. Veronica and Jughead watched with wide eyes, both of them scuttling backwards on their knees the wilder Archie’s expression became. Though unlike the screech that seemed to enjoy reducing Betty’s brain to mush, the device was different. Instead of hurting Archie, it only seemed to scan him.

Betty watched, paralysed with the cold, as the man held the device over Archie’s face before sweeping it up and down the boy’s body. Archie didn’t move, his jaw clenched tight. All four of them seemed to hold a collective breath, before the bleeping stopped and the device suddenly lit up a brilliant yellow. Betty stared, transfixed by the light that illuminated Archie’s face. He squinted, ducking his head away from the blinding glow. The man grunted. “Yellow.” He muttered, before pulling out another device. Betty recognised it as a tablet. The man pulled out an electronic pen and scribbled something on the screen, before letting out an appreciative noise. He bent down so he was at Archie’s eye-level and the boy just glared at him. “Try anything, Sparky, and I won’t hesitate blowing your brains out.” He held up the device with a grin, and Archie just shuddered.

Archie was shoved back next to Betty, and she leaned into him as notion of reassurance. After a beat, the boy let out a shaky breath and sent her a broken smile.

“Next!” the man straightened up, moving to Veronica. “Are we done here?” another voice sounded out, and Betty risked a glance behind her, to see an identical soldier. This time it was a woman. Betty felt a mixture of hope and helplessness envelope her as she stared at the second solider. The woman had brown hair pulled into a bun and the same disgusted sneer as her colleague. 

“We need to get these kids out of here. The little brats on the bus are getting restless.” The woman growled. Then, catching Betty’s gaze, she folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. “What the hell are you looking at, freak?”

Betty felt like answering back. But she bit her tongue. God knows what punishment was given to anyone who answered back.

“I said next!” the male solider grabbed Veronica by her hair and yanked her forwards. The girl let out a sob, and maybe a cry out for help, but she shut her mouth when the man held up his favourite toy. The man repeated what he had down with Archie, once again sweeping the device up and down Veronica’s shaking form. “What is that?” she whispered, her eyes on the bleeping blue light flickering on the torch-like object that seemed to be _reading_ her. Betty heard both Archie and Jughead suck in a breath. Veronica had spoken. A familiar shiver ran down Betty’s spine.

_God knows what happened to kids who asked questions._

But to Betty’s surprise, the man answered her, a gruff rumble in his throat. But it was still words, and still an answer. “This is called a Z-Reader.” He jerked the device in his hand which continued to bleep as it scoured Veronica’s body. “It’s going to give us a nice temporary little reading of your mutation, so we don’t get any trouble on the way to camp.”

 _Mutation_. Betty felt sick. In other words, that device would know she had erased her mom’s memory. It would know that she was sick, that something was wrong with her. Like Archie.

“Blue!” the man called out. The device stopped bleeping, and this time it lit up a striking electric blue that lit up Veronica’s stunned face. Before the girl could try and utter a word, the man was pushing her back into her place in their pathetic line. Betty’s heart thumped in her chest, her throat was dry. It began to rain, then. Though she embraced it. Betty was already numb, she already knew things couldn’t possibly get any worse. So she tipped her head back and stared at the swollen sky, hoping her tears mixed with the rain, so her Elizabeth Cooper wouldn’t show. She was strong.

She was Betty Cooper.

“Hello there son.” The man had moved onto Jughead, who was shivering as rain poured down on the four of them. The man grinned at the boy. “Let’s see if you light up like a Christmas tree.” Jughead shuffled backwards on his knees, his mouth twisted in a snarl. But he didn’t say anything when the man rolled his eyes and started to wave the bleeping device over his head of matted curly hair.

“Can you stop fucking playing around and get these damn kids on the bus?!” The woman, who was standing right behind her, was impatient. Betty stiffened. She bent over slightly, as if scared the women was going to take out her anger on her. Betty forced herself to focus on Veronica and Archie, who were staring in intense silence as the man scanned Jughead with the small bleeping device.

Eventually, the bleeping stopped, and to Betty’s horror, the device lit up a shocking shade of red. Jughead looked startled, and Betty had to look away. The colour terrified her. The way it illuminated Jughead’s pale face in such a striking dangerous shade. It automatically screamed; _dangerous_.

“Red!” the man, to Betty’s disgust, seemed thrilled. “We’ve got a red!”

“And a yellow,” the woman seemed disgusted, rather than thrilled.

Before Betty knew what was happening, both Jughead and Archie were being dragged to their feet. Both of them unsteady as they fought to keep their balance.

The woman took a step forwards. She was holding a bottle of water. Archie and Jughead stared at her as she downed half the bottle, before pouring the bottle over their heads, soaking them even more. Archie let out a squeak, stumbling backwards. But the man already had his hands firmly gripping the boy’s shoulder. “Nice try, Sparky.” The man laughed. Jughead didn’t say anything, only ducking his head as the water continued to gush over his head, running over his face.

“Stop!” Veronica yelled, lunging forwards. “That’s-“ she seemed lost for words. “That’s child abuse!” her voice broke when another soldier yanked her backwards. She yelped, struggling back to her knees. Betty could only stare transfixed at Archie and Jughead, standing there, both of their heads bowed as the women let her full bottle of water cascade over them, mixing with the already pelting rain. She felt like saying something. She wanted to _do_ something. But the only thing she could _do_ was hurt people. Her hands were only capable of wiping people she loved from her life.

“Go on, kids.” The woman smirked at the boys. She squeezed the bottle as the last dregs of water ran down their faces. “Try and stop me. Use your freak powers.”

Betty could _feel_ the anger from both of them reverberating in the air. She held her breath when Veronica turned to look at her. She remembered Archie telling her about his _lightening hands_. She found herself staring at them, bound behind his back. But there was nothing.

 _Red_. Betty thought. Glimpses of her memories of flames engulfing Jughead’s arms as a teenage boy, hit her. She felt sick. But the boy didn’t erupt into flames, or become a human fireball. Jughead nor Archie suddenly became all-powerful kid freaks with impossible abilities. No, they were just two little kids soaked through from the rain, and the cruel women’s now empty bottle of water.

The woman scoffed. “Didn’t think so.” She muttered. Then she sighed. “Right, I’ll do blondie.” The women’s gaze lands on Betty, and she feels like she might throw up. “Get the others on the bus.”

 _No._ Betty thought, glancing at the other three. At Veronica who was crying, her raven hair a tangled mess obstructing her face, at Archie and Jughead who were being pushed back onto their knees.

 _They were going to take them away!_ Betty felt like screaming. _No, she wouldn’t let them._

 _No!_ She felt her chest convulse with sobs and she ducked her head, soaked strands of her ratty and tangled hair dangling in front of her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut.

_Don’t leave me_

_Don’t leave me_

_Don’t leave me!_

She repeated the mantra over and over in her head. She felt the rain pound harder on her and fought back a scream. Instead, she concentrated on the words. _Fight back_. The words flitted across her closed eyelids and she felt invisible hands, her own hands reaching in the dark. There was nothing at first, and she ached from the sudden feeling of loneliness that would surely take her over. She wiped her own mother from her life. Betty kept her eyes closed, wanting to slam her hands over her ears as the soldiers barked orders at the four of them.

And then...Betty’s eyes flew open, her entire body suddenly sizzling with energy that zipped through her veins. Suddenly she saw it. She saw glowing balls of energy floating around her. Except they were grey and colourless. Like the old black and white films she used to watch with Polly.

And then it hit her. The grey was the soldiers.

When she straightened up, lifting her head so she could see Archie, Veronica and Jughead beside her, she felt something swell in her chest that wasn’t quite sadness or happiness. She wouldn’t understand it until she was older, but Betty was feeling a sense of _pride_.

She saw them glowing with their appointed colours. Archie, staring at the ground as he did his best to act strong. He was a bright yellow. Veronica, her eyes also glued to the soaked grass she knelt on. She was washed in a amazing blue light that lit up her features. And finally, Jughead. Betty felt her breath catch in her throat. Jughead. The beanie boy. He looked ready to collapse, his body leaning forward as if it would slam into the ground any second now. He wasn’t red, not like the device had screamed. Jughead was bathed in the most beautiful shade she had ever seen.

The colours struck her, and for a second, Betty wanted to know her own. She closed her eyes then, squeezing them shut as she blanked out the soldiers giving a lecture which surely was being ignored. Betty instead focused on the colours, on Archie, Veronica and Jughead. On their glowing balls of energy dancing in front of her eyelids. _Don’t leave me_. She said softly in her own mind, before she felt herself grow stronger. She blindly grabbed for them and this time she screamed as loud as she could. As loud as the device that liquidised her brain. This time, she would be louder.

 _DON’T LEAVE ME!_ She lifted her head, focusing on the soldiers standing over her.

Betty was startled then, by a cry from Veronica. The girl’s head shot up, wild eyes baring through her sheath of hair that covered her face. “No!” Veronica cried. But the girl’s voice sounded wrong, like the words were being forced through her lips. “No, I’m not leaving without Betty!”

The soldiers stared, stunned. Before Archie’s head whipped up too, his eyes wide and unseeing. “I’m not leaving without her either.” He growled.

And finally, Jughead. He seemed more aware of what he was saying, unlike Archie and Veronica, who’s eyes had glazed over. “We’re not leaving without her.”

“Betty, huh?” Betty cringed when the woman stood over her, device- or ‘Z Reader’ in her hand. The woman's expression twisted, eyes narrowing. “Tell me, _Betty_.” She snarled, spitting Betty’s name like it was a vulgar word. She side-stepped to Veronica, who was staring into the darkness, her eyes glassy and blank. “Can I guess your colour?” the woman grinned spitefully.

Betty only stared as the woman slapped Veronica across the face. The raven-haired girl seemed to jolt out of the trance she had sunk into, and her head fell forward as she erupted into a fit of sobs. “Why are you doing this?!” Veronica cried. “We’re- we’re just kids!”

The woman smirked and Betty’s blood ran cold. “Orange.” The woman pointed the device at her, and suddenly she felt not only the soldier’s eyes on her, but also an awakened and confused Veronica and Jughead.

"ORANGE." she said again, yelling it directly in Archie's face, startling him out of his stupor. The boy blinked several times before his eyes widened, awake and aware. He fell back onto his backside. "The Z gene mutation with the ability to influence thought processes and memory." 

_Memory_. Betty wanted to cry. _Mom_. _Oh god, she wanted her mommy._ Her eyes stung, but she was determined not to cry. She only glared at the woman. 

“Here’s some trivia, kids.” She addresses Archie, Veronica and Jughead and they only stared back at her blankly. “Betty here,” her lip curled into a snarl of disgust. “She just turned you into her own personal puppets.”

* * *


	5. The School Bus

* * *

Betty shivered. Though it wasn’t the icy chill of wind and rain slamming against her body. She had been labelled. Like the others. She had a colour. Except the way the woman had said it made her stomach churn. _Orange_. Is that what she was now? She wasn’t even human anymore, not even a kid. She was just a colour. Just a category. Betty ducked her head, letting her golden hair fall in her face. She was ashamed. Ashamed of what she was. She suddenly had urges to profusely apologise to everyone, to the soldiers, to her new friends who wouldn’t even look at her. Betty had tried to catch Veronica’s gaze, but the girl was bent over, sobbing. Even when Veronica bothered to look up, it wasn’t to look at Betty. It was to glare at the soldiers that were humiliating her. Calling her names. Teasing her. Betty couldn’t help picking up some of the nicknames they were being called.

Archie, she realized, had been renamed ‘Sparky’. She figured that had something to do with his ‘Lightening hands’.

Veronica was ‘Jean Grey’. Betty wasn’t really sure about that one. And Jughead had simply been called ‘Pyro’. She waited for them to give her a strange, obscure name. But they knew her name now. She was Betty the Orange girl. The girl who could manipulate thought processes and memory.

After the woman had exposed her ability, Betty tried hard to suppress it. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for the colourful lights speckled across her vision to disappear. But the more she pushed herself, the more hopeless she became. Her head started to ache, her skull throbbing as a familiar pain started to split her forehead in half. After that, she just let her head hang.

There had only been one rule the soldiers had made clear, while they discussed the children’s fates. **Don’t fall asleep**. Betty guessed that was because she herself had nearly sagged forwards as her brain had finally seemed to switch off, too tired to work anymore. But she had caught herself, digging her knees into the soil so she had something to hold on to. She knew the other three weren’t doing any better. Except they were more vocal about it. Veronica had started to whine about feeling tired and had only stopped when one of the soldiers had threatened to kick her in the head to shut her up. That was when Archie had jumped in, yelling at them to leave her alone, which had resulted in him being threatened too. Jughead had stayed quiet. Maybe that was for the best.

The four of them sat slumped on the grass, heads bowed like they were about to be executed. “I want the Orange girl blindfolded.” A voice said, pulling her out of her daze. She had been sitting there for what felt like hours since the woman had officially called her Orange. The soldiers had then got together, talking between themselves as the kids had no choice but to sit there soaked through and shivering. The rain had stopped, but Betty could still feel it sliding down her face, down her neck and back. The coat her mom had given her had been soaked through. But she didn't care. She was past caring. Betty was numb. Both mentally and physically. But the one thought that kept crying out in her head was _this can’t be happening_. _I'm only a kid._

 _"Archie."_ she spoke loudly in her mind. _"Archie, I'm sorry. Please look at me."_

But Archie was too busy trying hard not to fall asleep. Every so often he'd fall face-first into the dirt, and one of the solider's would have to yank his exhausted body back to a sitting position. 

Betty was sure she'd follow suite soon. She was so tired. She was cold. Soaked through. She just wanted to curl up on the grass and sleep. 

But what the solider suddenly said sprung her out of her stupor. “Alright, grab the little brats and get them on the bus. It leaves in five.”

Before any of them could complain or cry out, one of the soldiers was holding out what looked like a long piece of paper with writing she couldn't read. “The four of you are authorized to be taken to Janson Rehabilitation Facility under PSI Special forces commander, Mark Keaton.”

"Who's..." Veronica's voice was a broken sob. "Who's that?!"

The funny thing was, it was still raining. So the paper just soaked through and started to tear. Betty might have laughed. That was of course if her fate wasn't being held in front of her.

Betty had no idea what any of them words meant. But she figured they were true. After all, she had been told to never argue with adults anyway.

And then before she knew it, Betty was being yanked to her feet. Except she had no use of her hands, she couldn’t walk. She could barely even move she was shaking so hard. Something dark suddenly came over her eyes, blinding her. The last thing she saw was Archie's expression as he too was carried away. Jughead and Veronica were already gone. 

She couldn't read it. Was the curl of his lip sympathy for her or fear? Before she could figure it out, she was losing Archie's face in the dark, and her heart faltered. "What..." she started to cry out, but managed to bite it back before she got punished for speaking out of turn. 

"Shut it, you crazy bitch," the soldier carrying her, growled. "There's no way you're getting inside my head."

“No!” her throat ached as the words spilled from her mouth. “No, no, please!” she tried to use her arms to yank away the blindfold, but then realized she didn't have arms. They were still secured behind her back. She was completely helpless as she felt herself be lifted up by her waist by strong hands that weren't afraid to hurt her. She felt fingernails scathing across the flesh of her neck as the soldier grappled her, holding her securely. “Please!” she cried, mentally screaming at herself for sounding weak. “This is a...this is a mistake, please! I’m...I’m not sick!”

But she _was_. And the soldiers knew it now after she had unintentionally grasped control of her new friend’s minds for just a second. She only wanted them to _stay_. But instead she’d commanded them. She had _forced_ them. Betty had, for a small amount of time, had real, actual control over Archie, Jughead and Veronica. The cries died in her throat. She stopped screaming into the wind, and felt herself go limp. Easier to carry. Maybe they were right. Wherever they were taking her to _was_ the right place for her. She wondered if it would be like anything like school. Would there be teachers? Recess? She pictured her mothers face in her mind as she fought against the darkness. Her mother barely smiled, but it was a rare miracle when she did. So Betty imagined the time when she had tumbled off the school bus, the hand-made birthday card she had spent all day drawing, clenched in her fists. She was so excited she squeezed the paper, crinkling the corners.

She swayed in the man’s arms, letting her memories take over. She didn’t think of her numb toes and arms, of her shivering body and the soldier’s harsh grip- she thought of her mom.

“Mom!” she remembered herself yelling. She’d been so pumped about the drawing, that she’d ended up tripping on Fred Andrews’s lawn as she skipped to her mother, who had been standing in the garden with Polly. Her mother had been hacking away at plants and had surveyed her with her usual disappointed look when she caught the smudges of peanut butter on her skirt. Though it hadn’t been her fault. Reggie Mantle stolen her cookies so she had chased him across the playground until he had finally given up. But not before his peanut butter and jelly sandwich had ‘’accidently’ slipped from his hands and ended up sticking to her brand new pink skirt. 

“Reggie!” she remembered, almost _crying_ , Because it was a new skirt, and her mommy would kill her. Reggie hadn’t been the least sympathetic, however. He’d only grinned at her. “Sorry.”

He hadn’t been sorry at all. Which was why she had chased him for nearly twenty minutes with the soul purpose of “accidently” getting her Nutella sandwich all over _him_.

For a second, her mind snapped back to reality. Back to the cold, back to the rain, and a buzz of engines getting closer and closer. Was Reggie dead? Was he sick like her?

And then a sickening thought struck her. She hoped he was dead. She hoped he had escaped along with all the other sick kids. Because she would rather be _dead_ than be like this.

Betty’s head lolled in the man’s arms. She felt like she was flying. Though she didn’t feel like a princess, what she always felt like when she span around in her long pink dress with her arms flung out. No. She felt like she was _really flying_. Her head hurt, her chest ached, and all she wanted was to sleep. “Mom.” She whimpered. She wanted her mom. Who was going to march up to the soldier right now and order him to hand over her daughter. She would make a big deal out of it too.

Betty thought about Archie, his distraught face as he was dragged away from Fred Andrews. Fred would come too. Proclaim none of them were sick and take them....and take them home.

She felt her head hang upside down, the chilling wind seeping through her hair, sending strands flapping across her face. She felt herself be carried. Betty counted her own ragged breaths as she desperately grasped for light. Anything. Oh god, _anything_. But the darkness was slowly consuming her. She saw nothing but a deep stretch of oblivion. She couldn't even use her ability. She tried it, attempting to seek out the others. But there was no igniting energy zipping through her body.

There was nothing. She was alone. 

Betty felt herself be lifted. One step. Two steps. Three steps. The wind stopped lashing across her face, but she still heard it behind her. She felt a sudden rush of warmth, which wasn't expected. Whoever was carrying her had stopped. Her stomach dropped as a sheet of silence overlapped her. But she heard them. It was like the van, but this time there were more kids. She could sense them, their breaths short and panicky as soldiers yelled at them to stay quiet or face the consequences. 

“Orange.” The soldier carrying her spoke, his voice a robotic grumble. He was speaking to somebody else, a soldier, Betty guessed. “I’ll put her at the back with the rest of the troublemakers.”

She was on the bus. Her carrier’s feet thumped down the aisle as he carried her, his grip still secure and tight enough to make her clench her teeth and pray he let go of her.

 _Mom_. Betty forced herself to think about that afternoon, as if she was back there. When Polly wasn’t locked away and the kids on her street were still alive. She remembered handing over the drawing, and her mother’s face lighting up once she saw what Betty had drawn. Her favourite flowers. Peonies. That was the first time she had seen her mother really, truly smile. Betty hung onto that image in her head as she felt her carrier lowering her into a seat, followed by something fastening over her stomach. Then she was alone. She tried to sit up, tried to use her hands to tear away the blindfold, but her hands were trapped behind her back. She felt something, then. Someone’s shoulder nudging into her own. It was a reassuring gesture from a stranger.

“You can take her blindfold off, now.” A voice growled. “There’s a damper on the bus.”

Betty froze. Is that why she couldn’t use her ability?

Suddenly the blindfold was being removed, and Betty found herself blinking rapidly at lights shining down on her. She turned her head, desperate eyes flitting around for her friends. For the kids who had been taken away from her. But there were too many kids. The bus was packed with them, sitting in groups of fours. All of them silent. Some were crying out for their parents. Some of the older kids at the back were yelling abuse. “You can’t fucking do this!” Betty twisted her head, seeing a tall kid who looked around Polly’s age. He had shaggy hair falling in narrowed eyes. The kids sitting with him cried out in agreement. “Bullies!” a girl with dyed pink hair tried to stand up, but her bound hands yanked her back into her seat. “Do you realize what you’re messing with?”

“Sit down, kid.” The PSI soldier had ordered. The boy looked like he might argue. His dark eyes flickered to the Taser strapped to the man’s belt. But the boy’s eyes really did widen, when the man pulled something oh-so-familiar from his pocket. Betty cringed. The boy sat down abruptly, but made sure he made a show of it. “I’ll liquidise your fucking brains, human trash.” He growled. But the man just laughed. “Kid, where you’re going, you won’t have enough spirit to liquidise anyone’s brains.” And then, to the back of the bus, to both the edgy and rebellious teenagers as well as the little kids, whimpering, he cleared his throat. “You hear that, you little freaks? You’re going somewhere where you can’t abuse your freakish mutations.” His words sent shivers down Betty’s spine.

Were they going to die? Was she going to die on her ninth birthday? She started to shiver, tears stinging her eyes. Except for some reason she couldn't take her eyes off of the rebellious boy at the back. And he caught her eye. The two stared at each other for a second in what must have been a sort of understanding, before the boy’s lips curled into a smile and he winked at her.

“Orange.” He mouthed, and she tried not to react.

He was like her, Betty realized, her chest aching. He was an Orange.

“Betty.” A voice murmured, and Betty nearly let out a sob. She twisted around, finding herself face-to-face with Archie Andrews. He offered her a smile. Next to him were Veronica and Jughead, both peering at her. She almost cried. Veronica leaned over. “It’s gonna be okay, Betty.” She offered Betty a soft smile and Archie nodded encouragingly. “We’re not letting anything happen to you.”

“Right, are we all strapped in?!” the bus driver yelled, a sort of cold irony clinging to his tone. Betty already hated him. The bus started up, the engines setting her on edge. But Archie sent her a look of reassurance. Even if he himself wasn’t quite sure of their fate.

The bus ride itself didn’t take long, and she spent most of the time either trying incredibly hard not to snooze, because, Surprise surprise, that was once again the rule. No talking was a strict rule too. But Veronica was leaning over Archie’s lap every five minutes, whispering that it was going to be okay. Softly. Sweetly. Her eyes genuine. Betty knew she couldn’t speak, in fear of getting caught. Veronica had a talent for keeping her voice low and subtle, barely detectable to any adult. But if she _could_ speak, she’d ask the three of them why they were even talking to her.

“I got inside your head.” She wanted to say, no _scream_ at them. “I controlled your minds!” but looking at the three of them, at their faces so determined in keeping their little group together, she shut her mouth, as well as the thoughts in her head and let herself relax, once again letting her head fall on Archie’s shoulder. “We’re gonna be okay.” Veronica, always the optimist, was saying over and over again as she too lent against Archie’s shoulder. Jughead stared hard down at his lap.

 _They were going to be okay_. That was her new mantra. They _had_ to be.

* * *


	6. Grown Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason this chapter is in the 1st person,,,and then those after. idk why lmao

* * *

“Well, well, well.” The man’s lip curled into a knowing smirk. It made me sick. My arm was still stinging from where the tranquiliser dart had ripped through my shirt, deeply embedding itself between flesh and bone. I bite back a cry against the heat. The late-afternoon sun is beating down on me, on all of us. My scalp scratches and I long to scrape my filthy blonde hair into a ponytail. “I didn’t think any of you were brave enough to try and escape, yet _here_ we are!” the guard laughs. I want to spit in his face but my mouth is dry, my lips cracked. My stomach hurts- no my whole body hurts from working all day, and the escape we didn’t even plan.

Because we were stupid. Well, it wasn’t our fault.

I blame The United States Government for my lack of vocabulary, as well as basic skills. I never even finished the fourth grade. I still have the intelligence of a god damn ten year old. So I didn’t have intelligence. I still had no idea how to do my timetables and even now, at fifteen years old, my writing looks like a pre-schoolers. But unlike my brain, the rest of me _did_ grow up. The only way I knew I was getting older were small things- growing breasts and suddenly stopping seeing Archie and Jughead as my best friends, and something...more. I remember feeling.... _strange_ when I’d see either of them, and then I’d spend hours talking to Veronica about it, who was equally confused and annoyed with her sudden _feelings_ for the boys.

You would have thought the guards might have separated the cabins, for privacy. But no. They let us get on with it. So the four of us had spent a whole night just after my fourteenth birthday, fashioning out a make-shift ‘door’ out of leftover bedsheets, which we strung up across the cabin, finally separating us.

But my feelings never stopped. I don’t think Veronica’s did either. I don’t know what to _do_. I was torn from my life, we all were at ten years old. My mom never had _The talk_ with me. Instead, it had been Veronica. She didn’t know about the feelings or confusion with the boys, but she _did_ know about periods. I didn’t need my mom when I started. I had Ronnie. She had insisted on staying with me all night, and we’d spent the whole night talking and giggling with each other. Archie and Jughead had both complained the next morning.

Veronica was already a pretty girl when we were kids. But as we grew older, I envied her as her hair grew long and dark and perfect and her chest _of course_ grew bigger than mine. Veronica was absolutely beautiful. Sometimes I thought I was going crazy, because sometimes I _swear_ I got butterflies for Ronnie too.

After all these years, we still had each other.

The _crack!_ Of the guards baton striking the ground breaks me out of my trance. I realize I have a silly grin on my face, and I shake my head, pasting a frown back on my lips. 

The guard’s name was Pablo. He was South American, had hair so thick with hair-gel that it made me gag, and the shark grin which still managed to tip me off guard, even after so many damn years.

“If it isn’t for the fucked up Breakfast Club.” He’s glaring at the four of us as we kneel in front of him. Deja Vu hit me once I’d been wrestled to the ground and forced to my knees before being dragged into line with my partners in crime. Pablo paces up and down our line as the four of us stare into the dry dirt we were sitting on. “Sparky? Are you going to tell me what happened?” His cold stare is settled on Archie Andrews.

 _The Fucked Up Breakfast Club_? I can’t help lifting my head and fixing the guard with a frown. _Yes, Pablo_. I communicate with my eyes. _I’m a teenage girl who has been locked up for nearly eight years,”_ I can’t resist a smirk when he catches my eye. He can so hear me. _I have no idea what The Breakfast Club Is._

Pablo ignores me. I think he’s got earbuds in to protect himself from _Scary Orange’s_ like myself. But he doesn’t know I’m an Orange. If he did- I’d be dead- with all the other Orange’s. So maybe he didn’t have earplugs. As far as the PSI soldiers were concerned, every mind-reader, memory eraser and mind-controller had been taken when we were kids, and executed. I was the last of my kind, hiding amongst my little group.

I can feel the tense silence between us. It was an unwritten rule, a pact, that we didn’t tattle on each other. Pablo notices our silence. I can _sense_ it. “Alright then.” He swings his baton. “How about you tell me what happened, or I’ll beat your heads in, huh?”

 _Liar_. I glare at him, and the man’s facial expression suddenly stills, his gaze going blank. “I lied.” He says, and his tone is as robotic as his stupid walk. Pablo snaps out of it automatically and blinks rapidly, before clearing his throat. _He had no idea._ I wish I could get close enough to him to grab him. I’d erase everything he was, tell him his family and friends were dead- and then demand he gave me the access code for the fence. But I can’t move. My wrists have been restrained behind by my back by PSI-proof zip ties.

Archie caves first. Of course he does. I can practically hear Jughead’s eyes rolling.

 _Jughead._ I felt like I’d not only grown up seeing him change physically, but his personality took a dramatic turn once he hit puberty. He had been a scrawny kid with a stupid knitted hat and only got properly comfortable with me, Archie and Veronica when we quite literally forced him to. Then he’d started to get snarky, developed a sardonic sense of humour which was what we all needed. And then he started to change physically- like Archie. He got taller, his shoulders broader- chubby cheeks and dimples I’d seen in ten year old Jughead completely disappeared and made-way for a carved jaw and sweet almost twinkling green eyes.

Sometimes I walked in on him. I didn’t mean to. But he didn’t seem to be embarrassed. He’d stand there in his boxers and nothing else- and cheerily greet me, before continuing to change. I hated it. Just like with Archie, my stomach prickled with butterflies, with Jughead. He still hadn’t taken off his hat.

“Look.” Archie begins, opening his mouth. But Jughead inconspicuously digs an elbow into the boy’s rib and he shuts his mouth, letting his head drop. Jughead clears his throat and the guard gives him dagger eyes. “Are you going to explain yourselves, Jones?”

“Damn,” Jughead smirks. “Where’s my nickname, huh?” Archie, still with his head bowed, chokes out a laugh, and even I feel myself start to smile. For some reason the PSI soldiers always addressed Archie Andrews as _Sparky._

The thing is, yes we might be locked up for rest of our lives, and _yeah_ it sucked. But sometimes we had to laugh instead of crying. Archie glances at me and cocks his eyebrow, shooting me one of those boyish grins that I’d had to put up with since he hit puberty. I swear that boy thinks he’s invincible.

It wasn’t like the nickname didn’t make sense. He’d had it since the day I met him- the day I’d accidently taken my mothers memories of me. But the nickname stuck for some reason. Maybe it was because almost every day Archie would have one of his freak outs. Sometimes I wondered if he had a second personality. There was Archie Andrews, my best friend, the boy who gave me piggybacks down the drab hallways of the institute when I was upset, the boy who sang us all to sleep when we were four terrified kids stuffed into a cabin.

And then there was _Archie Andrews._ The boy who enjoyed sticking his fingers in outlets to get a thrill, to try and kick-start his powers. There was also the anger trigger. If Archie got angry, which was easily, going from the smallest things like Jughead threatening to kill himself if Archie sung Wonderwall _one more time_. Most of the time Archie nodded and agreed, an embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks. But there were also the times when the boy completely lost it. Last time it had been Veronica’s fault. She had started talking to him during work. Basically manual child labour. Because we didn’t deserve to go to school like normal kids.

Veronica and Archie had been pulling plants in the gardens, and of course there was a strict rule of _No talking_. That rule was in force all over the camp except from in each groups’ cabin. It was a relief after a whole day of silence, of going back to the cabin I shared with the others. Sometimes all it took was a simple joke told by one of us, and bam, we’d all be laughing so hard we’d have to slam our faces into the ratty pillows they provided. But Veronica had caught Archie on a bad day. He’d already been on edge after being yelled at by a PSI soldier for apparently ‘slacking’ but I’d been watching from my place in the gardens. He’d been bent over, gripping weeds and yanking them with a force to be reckoned with. Veronica, bored with her work, and fed up of being tormented by residential ice-queen Cheryl Blossom, she’d wandered over to Archie’s spot.

I hadn’t heard the conversation, and Veronica had never told me it, but whatever she had said, had triggered his power. He’d freaked out, stumbling backwards while his arms started to stream with electricity as bolts ran up and down his torso. I remember him being scared of it at first, but then it seemed like he’d seen it as a sudden advantage against the PSI soldiers. So he had tried to use it, curling his fists into balls and threatening any guard which came near him. But Archie Andrews had apparently forgotten a very obvious and _human_ invention which knocked kids like us out as if the gun was made especially for that purpose.

Though I was sure it was a horse tranquiliser. Because the United States Government _still_ weren’t donating money to the soldiers that kept us captive. So _unfortunately_ no super-cool weapons for them.

Except for the White Noise.

“Andrews.” The man addressed Archie who was knelt next to me. “Explain yourself.”

Archie lifts his head and groans. “We got bored and jumped the fence.” He mutters. Archie was still wincing from his little trick with the electric fence. Before he’d been shot with a tranquiliser, Archie had looked like a human lightening rod. Electricity had seethed through him as streaks of electric blue ran up and down his arms. I could still sense the buzz of energy running through him despite the incident being a little over an hour ago. Archie hadn’t changed in the seven years I’d known him. He had stayed the same dopy kind-hearted kid from my childhood. Bent on protecting our little group, Archie was sometimes blinded by his stubbornness. He sits next to me and I can still feel the electricity running off him. My skin prickles with the current and I shiver. He glances at me, twisting his head slightly. Archie isn’t the same podgy little ten year old. He’d grown significantly and built up muscle on his arms. Sometimes at lights out he’d go on for what felt like forever about it, boasting about how he was going to become the next Superhero.

Archie might have hated it when he was a kid. He was terrified of his ability. Not so much now. He had jumped at Jughead’s suggestion of him using his powers to try and knock off the electric fence. But of course it hadn’t worked. Archie had been shocked with enough bolts of electricity to send him to Pluto, and the rest of us had been tranqued before we could try and vault over the fence. The mission was a fail. Now the four of us sat outside in the blistering heat while Pablo tried to think of something smart to say.

I’d seen it in the others a lot. The twist of a smirk as Archie had stupidly grasped onto the electric fence before Jughead would give the all clear. Jughead’s grin when he’d finally came into his full powers at the age of thirteen. He had ignited, his whole body becoming a human fireball. It had happened in our shared cabin, and I remember the look of horror and pain as Archie and Veronica had watched their friend standing there- his mouth twisting from pain to horror to- excitement. I’d never say this to Jughead, but the way his eyes had gone fully black, like the soot at his feet when he had accidently burned a pile of books just by a touch. I terrified me. Who knows; maybe it wasn’t just Archie who hadn’t a second personality. I don’t even think it’s a second personality. It’s just the monster side of us- what we’d been called for so many years by the PSI soldiers- finally taking control. Well, I guess they were right.

 _Fucking stupid kids._ Pablo’s thoughts grumbled. _Why can’t we just shoot them in the head and get it over with?_

Sometimes my power comes in handy. Just by looking at somebody, I can see their dark secrets. By touching them, I can control their thoughts and memories. I can make them do _whatever_ _I want._ I want to gently touch the guard’s shoulder and tell him; _stick your revolver in your temple and pull the trigger_.

“Oi, Sparky!” Pablo barks. Archie’s head twists and he’s facing front and centre once again. “What?” he hisses. I swear I can still see bolts of blue light igniting his amber eyes. “We were just messing around!” he insisted. I hear Jughead scoff from where he’s on my other side. Veronica, who’s kneeling next to Archie, has her head bowed. But her neck is quivering, every so often the softest of giggles will pierce the overwhelming silence- and I find myself rolling my eyes.

Pablo isn’t impressed. “Do you kids think this is funny?!” he barks.

Veronica always looked for a fight. Ever since she had been announced as a Blue, as a monster, she had become determined to embrace the monster inside of her. But her powers did have a negative side. Veronica Lodge’s powers were the strongest when she was asleep. Though none of the PSI soldiers had found out, since we as a group had managed to keep it hidden since we were kids. But it was getting worse. Every morning I would be woken by the cancelation of gravity around the whole cabin. Nothing escaped it. Sometimes I’d wake up, just dangling in mid-air and freak out, twisting and flailing, before realizing that the guys were in the same position as me. It had become so consistent that we just expected it now. The point is; Veronica was extremely powerful.

“Lodge.” Pablo growls. “Lift your head and _look_ at me, bitch.”

There’s a moment of silence, and I risk turning my head. Veronica is still giggling under her sheathe of hair, while Jughead and Archie glare at the soldier as if they were going to somehow tear from the bonds that held them and spring at the guard’s face. I could see if now. Archie would wrestle him to the ground, overpowering him, forcing his face into the dirt. Then Jughead’s arms would ignite a dazzling orange and they’d toast him.

But of course- that’s never going to happen. There’s armed guards everywhere- there’s an electric fence outlining the circumference of the camp, and I really cannot be bothered running. My head hurts, my body aches, and I just want to sleep. But the others have other ideas.

Veronica wasn’t a girl to back down. Though Archie was already jumping to her defence, like always. “Hey!” he growls, just like when he was a kid. But there was a darkness in him that was absent seven years ago. “Stay away from her.” When Pablo laughs, Archie grits his teeth, but the soldier isn’t backing down. Not when he’s got his secret weapon. He waves his White Noise device in Archie’s face, but the boy just lets out a laugh. “Are you kidding? I’m used to getting my brains blown out, old man.”

The guard, to my surprise, doesn’t reply.

“What?” Archie speaks up, straightening up as much as he could while having his arms restrained behind his back. “No reply?” the boy continues, his tone turn teasing. “Have you run out of insults?”

“Yeah!” Jughead joined in. “Are you picking on teenage girls? Because that, my friend, is sexual harassment.”

What the hell are they doing?! I shoot a glance at Archie, before he ever so slightly winks, before jerking his head to the soldier. “Stall him.” He mumbled, before letting out a loud laugh at Pablo. “Are you _scared_ of us?!”

Does he mean with my power? Had Archie gotten free? I can’t risk looking.

Pablo is suddenly glaring at me. “Hey! I said eyes forward, skank!” the soldier _did_ seem to be running out of insults. Though I had no idea what a _skank_ was. I frown at Pablo. His hands were shaking by his sides. _So we were scaring him!_

Okay, here goes. There are four guards behind him, patrolling the fence. If I can place a memory in his head, just a small one, nothing showy that will grab attention. Just a distraction.

Veronica is laughing loudly now, and a flash in the corner of my eye tells me that Archie had managed to free himself. “Ronnie.” Jughead murmurs, his tone almost sing-song. Though I can tell he’s laughing, giggling, not even trying to hold it back. He grins widely at the solider. “Don’t provoke her.”

“Provoke her?!” Pablo scoffs and yells back, his hand automatically flying to his belt where his favourite toy was. The others don’t move. They don’t flinch or cry out or yell. But I feel a shiver rip down my spine. That damn thing affected nobody else but me. Well, it did _affect_ them. It still caused them to grab their ears and swallow their screams before vomiting their meagre meal. But the others had been categorised properly. Archie was Yellow, Veronica was Blue and Jughead was Red. It was The White Noise. My own personal nightmare. But if they figure out I’m Orange, and find the right frequency, they could kill me.

I’m already hypertensive to the White Noise. It’s as bad as it was when I was a kid. It still makes me curl up into a ball and screech, slamming my hands over my bleeding ears. My screech would normally echo Archie, Veronica and Jughead’s as they too keeled over as that same screech turned up to the right frequency completely destabilised thousands of screaming freaks. But it was different for me. It sometimes took hours for me to be able to even think straight. After being blasted with White Noise, some kids, like Archie, would shakily get up and wipe their eyes before carrying on working. But I had to swallow the vomit in my throat and bite my lip against the painful throbbing in my skull. I have never really gotten over it, not really.

Veronica lifts her head slowly, her dark hair still hiding her face. But even if I can’t see her eyes, I know they’re there, piercing green and cat-like- narrowed. Studying him. Prodding him. Archie shifts in his spot, I can tell he’s waiting for me to do my mind-mojo. I take a deep breath and focus on Pablo. I reach out to his mind, forcing myself into his head. Nothing drastic. I tell myself. Just something small. I can’t do anything big since I don’t have the advantage of touch. But I can still get into his head.

 _See that man over there?_ I force the words into his mind, and then filter an image of the guard standing behind him. _He killed your mother_. I whisper into his thoughts. _He took the gun he’s holding right now and he shot her between the eyes_. Pablo’s eyes roll back into his head and Archie turns to me with a solemn nod.

I make sure my voice is clear in the guard’s head. _I’m so sorry about your mother, Pablo. You should avenge her death._ I dig flitting images of the guard behind Pablo, of him smashing his imaginary mother’s head against her own kitchen counter. Blood splashes everywhere. I force myself deeper into his mind. I can do this.

_Kill him._

The gunshot deafens me.


	7. Cheryl Fucking Blossom

* * *

I’ve never doubted my powers. I’ve always dreamed of using them on the PSI soldiers. After being mentally and physically abused by them since I was a kid- after watching my friends at their mercy while they just laughed and labelled us scum of the earth. I heard their thoughts. They wanted to kill us. To just get it over with. Our generation were fucked, they thought. Better to just eradicate us, the kids with twisted genes and no future, than rehabilitate us. I should have wanted to kill the soldier. In fact I did. I wanted Pablo to turn around and blow a hole in his head. But was that me thinking that? Betty Cooper? Or was the twisted side of me, the girl who wanted to hurt people- wanted to kill and control people with her powers- wanting that?

I had killed the soldier. The soldier with a name, with a family, with friends. Who was human. He was 100% human and deserved a life, even if it consisted of ruining mine. Though that’s the last piece of humanity inside me speaking. The part I sometimes suppressed, because at times I just wanted to be let loose. Like a caged wild animal. I wanted to grasp everyone’s minds with my own, the people in peripheral, and I wanted to yank memories from them, replace them with terrifying sights that would haunt them until death. I wanted to hurt people. Make them hurt the ones they loved, use them as personal puppets. I am Elizabeth Cooper, the girl who wiped her own mother’s memory of her existence. I’m an Orange. I DESERVE to be in this damn camp. Because I am a monster.

Though I’m not that scared little kid anymore, with no friends. With only my mother and sister to talk to. I had made friends, no, a sort of messed up dysfunctional family of my own, after losing my original one. And I would do anything, even if it meant stopping them escaping, to keep them safe.

But I’m also selfish. I saved myself. I knew, at the back of my head, that they weren’t going to kill us.

It had all gone so fast. When I try and recall it, it’s like a series of colourful flashes in my head. Archie, one second he’s knelt next to me staring forwards, next second he’s diving forwards with the others. Veronica and Jughead springing up, free. The crack of the gun-shot stops me in my tracks, and I scramble to run. But the noise is deafening. It brings me to my knees. I’m half-aware of the others running ahead, of Veronica letting out a piercing screech, bringing her hands up and throwing them in front of her. The guards go flying, somersaulting into the air like they were puppets on strings. 

Archie stops, looks around, his expression twisting when he realizes I was stuck. I was screaming. I was knelt in the dirt, my face in the grass and screeching into the greenery as the gunshot plays repeatedly in my head, as I keep watching shot after shot- the soldier pulling out his revolver and stepping towards Pablo. “Betty!” Archie was screaming for me to run, Jughead and Veronica already running ahead as Jughead’s arms erupted into flames, Veronica simply flicking her hands, sending soldier after soldier careening through the air like they were puppets on strings.

The whole thing plays on a loop in my head; inescapable.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I want my mom, oh god I want my mommy! Everything inside me screams at me to run, to join my friends, but something is stopping me. Pablo is lying in the dirt and my heart falters. I want to help him. I want to sit with him and hold his head in my lap as he chokes on his last breaths.

I hadn’t killed Pablo. Not yet. I watched in horror, in slow-motion, as the bullet changed its trajectory- Veronica? At the last second. Instead of slamming directly into the soldier’s forehead like I instructed, the bullet slammed into his right temple. I don’t know how I know, but it’s clear in my head- maybe a nearby solder’s thought? He’s lobotomized.

He’s going to die. He’s writhing on the ground, choking on blood spilling through his lips. I did that. I ordered his death. Before I know what’s happening, I’m being yanked to unsteady feet and yanked forwards. It’s Archie. He’s running, dragging my useless body behind. But I can’t run. I can’t even breathe. Ahead of us Veronica lets out a shriek of laughter as she spirals a bunch of soldiers into the air, and they hang suspended in mid-air as she continues to run, hand in hand with Jughead.

“We’re almost there!” Archie yells over the gunshot on repeat in my head- over the thoughts of the soldiers, suddenly deafening me- overwhelming me. It’s rare that I can pick up thoughts. Only when I’m distressed or really try to. But this time it doesn’t even require practise. I can hear them.

“KILL THEM! AIM FOR THE HEAD!” One female soldier’s thought screeches in my mind, followed by a cacophony of orders to kill, battering my brain. I stumble to an abrupt stop, Archie stopping too, twisting around. “What are you doing?” his brown eyes widen with fear, with horror.

“That girl! What colour is she?” a voice flitters in my mind, and my blood runs cold.

No.

“Stop.” I can barely strong two sentences together, so that’s all I manage. Archie’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “What do you mean?!” he hisses, grabbing for my hand. But I yank it away.

If they find out who I am...If they find out I’m orange....

“They’re going to kill us.” I want to say, but my lips are numb and I’m choking on my breaths, so no words can come out. My body aches, the urge to just...drop...suddenly seems better than escape. I can’t speak, I can’t move- so Archie continues to drag me as he desperately tries to catch up with the others. I can hear the thud of the soldiers boots as they pound after us on the hot gravel.

“Archie, Archie stop!” I scream, but the words are stuck at the back of my throat. He’s not listening. Jughead and Veronica are almost at the fence. Archie keeps running.

Stop. I squeeze my eyes shut, just as I did as a child, still feeling the motion as Archie quickens his pace, his breaths heavy and breathy as he continues to run. I try and focus, not on the sound of the gunshot, or the thought, the sudden glimpse of Pablo’s kids, of his wife. I block all of it out and focus on Archie, on Veronica and Jughead. Yellow, Blue and...and the most beautiful shade I’d ever seen. And that’s when I see them again- three pulsing balls of excruciatingly bright light. They waver in front of my eyelids as Archie runs faster.

Stop. I don’t speak, my lips staying sealed tight. Instead, I imagine reaching into Archie’s mind, into his thoughts and memories- everything he was. My heart suddenly clenches. I did this with touch to my mother. Now I can do it just by thinking it. The thought terrifies me, but what other choice is there?

I could erase myself from Archie’s mind, from Jughead and Veronica’s. I could do to them what I did to my mother. No. I force back the thought, suppress it. I can feel Archie’s mind, and then I’m in Veronica, in Jughead’s. I grasp hold of the three of them, like a vice, tightening my grip.

Stop. I say in my head, and then scream it, screech it until my temples ache. PLEASE JUST STOP!

And they do. Archie stops so abruptly, he falls forwards, but catches himself. He turns to me, then, and I’m terrified of seeing a blank expression, a blank slate. But instead he stares at me, his lips curling. “Did you just...?” he lets out a hiss of pain, and I see it automatically. The tranq suddenly deeply embedded in his arm. Archie looks like he might be trying to say my name, but his eyes suddenly widen and he picks out the dart and drops it like he had grabbed a hot iron.

“Archie-“ I try and whisper, but my voice is choked. His lips curl with disgust before he drops to the ground and curls into a ball with a groan.

Sometimes the tranquilliser dart takes a while to take effect. But it does a good job of completely destabilising you until the soldiers reached you. 

I try and say sorry, I really do. But I can’t. My chest is ready to explode from running, so I simply let myself fall forwards once the familiar prick of tranquilliser dart stabs me in the back. Twin yells sounding far-away tell me that Jughead and Veronica have also been tranqued. The last thing I see as I lay next to Archie while my drugged brain tries to glimpse stars in a sparkling daylight sky, is a familiar pale face peering down at me, scarlet strands of hair lingering in bright green eyes.

“You idiot!” the girl yells. I can tell she’s also been tranqued. Her gaze is foggy, and I hear a thud as her knees hit the ground. Before I know it there’s a halo of flaming hair beside me.

“You brain dead cactus!” she hisses next to me. She can’t move. If she could, she’d roll over and turn me into a human iceberg before I had could scream. I know Archie’s conscious, I see the back of his head as he groans, unable to move. And then I hear the familiar thudding of PSI soldier boots which eventually drown out Cheryl’s colourful insults. I lie next to Cheryl and await my fate.

“Betty Cooper, if I could move my arms right now, you’d be dead-“ Cheryl’s voice chokes and softens as the drug enters her bloodstream, but she’s still able to move her mouth. “You moron!” she screams at the sky and it hurts my ears. I don’t know how I manage it, but my lips manage to whisper the words stuck in my throat. Not a tearful apology to Pablo, or even to my friends. “They’re going to kill us, Cheryl.” I murmur softly. Liar. I tell myself. “So shut the hell up.”

Cheryl is silent for a second, before she lets out a laugh.. “I’d like to see them-“ but her words cut off when it hits. The White Noise. Archie, still curled into the foetal position on the grass next to us, lets out a hiss, becoming a cry which slowly blossoms into a screech echoing Cheryl’s scream as they both plead for mercy at the sky, unable to smash their hands over their ears.

I squeeze my eyes shut when it hits. That’s all I can do. Though, for some reason, before the White Noise finally catapults me into darkness, I realize that the frequency moulding my brain, bleeding from my ears, isn’t as painful as Archie’s agonizing screech as he lay, helpless against the noise.

It was seven years ago all over again, except this time, I had caused it.

* * *

  
  
The sun beats down on my face and I attempt to shade myself from it, scurry away from it. But I can’t. Because once again I’m restrained. Though I should be grateful, right? They didn’t kill us. We’re still alive. Except my head is still pounding from the White Noise. I can still feel crusted blood around my nose, in my ears. When I dare look at the others, they’re splattered with it too.

So, still alive. But at this point, I didn’t want to be. I wasn’t caught. Somehow the soldiers had put it down to a rogue soldier, who had shot himself after murdering Pablo.

This time the soldiers have gotten creative and thought of a new punishment. The last time a bunch of kids tried to escape, which was when I was twelve, they had been caught and lined up at the front of the camp, by the cabin’s and blasted with White Noise for nearly five minutes. I’d heard their brains had exploded. Though the soldiers must have had some kind of compassion lingering inside of them, or maybe they didn’t want an audience. Because me and Veronica had been ushered inside the institute before we could dare take a peek.

Kids talk. It was a normal thing to do, even for diseased sick kids with impossible abilities. So, of course it had gotten around that the kids had been blasted with White Noise so much that they had quite literally combusted. I found out later on, that they had simply been taken behind the fence, and shot in the head.

At the time I’d been told the kid’s brains had literally gone kaboom! I didn’t hear them literally explode, or the reality; three gunshots going off one after the other. But thirteen year old Jughead and Archie had been pretty vocal with added hand gestures, describing the horror with the most terrifying grins on their faces. Claiming they saw the whole thing. When I was sure Kevin Keller, a Green with the intelligence of Stephen Hawking’s times a billion, had told them at lunch that day.

“It went BOOM!” Archie had yelled, so loud Veronica had to gag him to stop a soldier coming in and yelling at us for being loud. Though Jughead was excited too. “This kid’s brain literally EXPLODED from his ears! It was so cool!” and then him and Archie had started making flailing gestures with their arms, dramatizing the ordeal. Jughead even fell to the ground and pretended to be dead while Archie, who must have been play-acting a solider, let out a loud and gruff belly laugh.

The excitement on the boy’s faces had scared me more than the fried kid brains. I remember Veronica’s look of horror as Jughead had knelt next to a ‘dead’ Archie, and let out a loud, dramatic wail. “Nooo!” before the redhead had finally gotten bored of playing-dead and sat up, grinning. I knew I wasn’t the only scared one. Veronica had grabbed my hand, squeezing it. Her eyes had been filled with tears and she kept sniffling. “How...how can they laugh like this?” she had whispered.

Though I had found out a while later that they weren’t as screwed up as I thought. It turned out the PSI soldiers had been drugging the water supply with happy-drugs, or whatever.

The boy’s had been pretty dehydrated after a day in the garden, so they had dosed themselves with enough drugged happy-water to give me and Veronica a headache from their boisterous ‘attack hugs’ and constant giggling. Though weirdly, it was funny to watch. It was nice to finally laugh at something. Even if it was Jughead and Archie bouncing off of the walls for two hours. Veronica though, had refused to even look at the boys as they chased each other around the cabin. She had sat on her bed, her thin blanket covering her shoulders, her head ducked. She had been mumbling something. Something in Spanish. Maybe it was a prayer for the dead kids.

The Happy-water was the PSI soldiers’ way of keeping us on our feet and able to work. Though if drank a lot, it could cause problems. Though thankfully the boy’s hadn’t fully come into their powers, then.

Anyway, the punishment wasn’t White Noise. It was at first, since it was their only way to stop us jumping the fence. Though I’d also played an unintentional role in our capture. Instead of reducing our brains to liquid matter, we were simply handcuffed to the fence which ran around the camp, and we would probably be here for the next three days without food or water.

Except we have a new addition to what Pablo had called The Breakfast Club. Cheryl Blossom. The last person I saw before I lost consciousness. Resident ice queen and the Queen of insults. She hadn’t been at the camp long. Apparently she had been part of a rogue group of kids, offering a few familiar faces from my childhood. There was Reggie Mantle, who was still alive, and now apparently, a Green. As well as Moose Mason and Jason, Cheryl’s twin brother. There were more kids, but I only know the ones from my school. Though there was something different about these kids. Something feral and animalistic.

They had been eating scraps for seven years, ever since Riverdale’s future youth had been yanked from their homes and rehabilitated here. Cheryl had been in hiding. Of course until last year, when she’d been brought in. I remember the day because upon her arrival, Cheryl’s powers had been so out of control she had managed to kill two of her own, and a PSI soldier.

Cheryl’s power was the ability to freeze anything she touched or came into contact with. But she must have used her powers a lot while she was in hiding because she easily was able to turn the camp grounds into the own personal Winter Wonderland, as well as turn a bunch of kids and a soldier into popsicles. Though it wasn’t like in cartoons when you can unfreeze someone. No. That’s not reality. Cheryl hadn’t just frozen their physical form, she had frozen their organs, their bloodstream. Archie liked to call her Dark Elsa.

When I first came into contact with her, Cheryl had been wearing custom made gloves. which for some reason, excited Archie even more. “She’s real life Elsa!” he had whispered in my ear as Cheryl had swept past us in her camp uniform, her hair cascading down to her stomach. I remember her being a chubby nine year old with short red hair, but when Cheryl was brought to Janson at fifteen years old, she had lost the puppy-fat and made-way for a slim and perfect figure which always attracted the eyes of Archie, though I can’t really blame him. Cheryl looked like a real ice goddess.

Her hair was the colour of freshly spilt blood which contrasted perfectly with her pale skin. Cheryl had been a sweet kid. She had her nasty streak, but that’s only when she was jealous of Valerie, of anyone who tried to talk to Josie.

But now Valerie was dead, and Josie I presume was also one of the kids who escaped this hell and died from the sickness. I feel like Josie’s death affected Cheryl. There was no kindness left in the girl, her sweet smile only twisted maliciously, when she was threatening a kid or solider. Basically, Cheryl Blossom terrified me, and now was squeezed between me, Archie, Veronica and Jughead, as we sit, or rather slump against the fence. What was so special about us? Why weren’t we shot in the head too? We attempted escape TWICE! Not just once, but twice. How are we still alive?

“I can’t believe this.” Cheryl’s whiny cry is almost as bad as The White Noise. It had the same effect. It made me want to rip off my ears, just to escape it. It made me want to reach into my skull, somehow defying the laws of human nature, grabbing my brain and yanking it from the god damn stem. “Did you brainless Klondike Bar’s honestly think you could get away?!” the girl lets out a shriek of laughter, and at that moment I don’t want to kill the soldiers. I want to kill Cheryl.”

“Klondike bars.” Jughead mutters, yanking on his own handcuff, probably testing to see how PSI proof it really was. “Honestly, Cheryl. It really brightens my day when I hear one of your amazing insults.” Jughead’s arm is stretched over his head where his handcuff is linked to the fence. I caught him wincing sometimes, every time he moved, his right arm was yanked. My own arm ached just glancing at him. Thankfully, unlike Jughead, I was linked to the fence by my lower back, so I didn’t have to spend three days with my right arm above my head. He wasn’t complaining. But I still couldn’t look him in the eye. He kneels in the dirt and does a good job of looking nonchalant.

Archie is squeezed next to me, his own arm also restrained above his head. Who knows. Maybe the soldiers hated boys. I only catch a glimpse of his red hair glinting against the late-afternoon sun. His head is turned away as he stares into the dirt and gravel. He’s refusing to even look at me.

“Well, we nearly did.” Veronica mutters, from my other side. Her tone sour. She yanks on her restraint and lets out a loud and dramatic sigh, slowly turning her head in my direction. Her tanned legs are pressed against mine, and I long to flinch away from her touch. I feel all of their eyes on me, even Cheryl’s. I don’t bother looking up from where my gaze strays on my scuffed shoes lying in front of me on the parched gravel. I want to apologize, but the heat had seared my throat, or maybe I’m just a coward. “B?” Veronica murmurs. “What happened? We were so close!”

I don’t answer, keeping my gaze on gravel stones I slide the heel of my shoe over. The crunch makes me cringe. “Betts.” Jughead looks up, his fringe flopping in his eyes. “Why did you stop us?”

“Stop you?” Cheryl hisses, exasperated. “Are you kidding? I’d been edging closer and closer to that god damn fence all day! And then you Dumbo’s just start running at it, in broad daylight!”

“We had a plan.” Archie also finally looks up, his voice cold, and finally, oh god, finally he’s looking at me. “Well?” he gives me that same scrutinizing narrowed eyed look as he did when we were nine, when I was sipping hot chocolate at his kitchen table.

I can’t answer him. Because I don’t know the answer. Did I stop them to prevent them being shot, or did I do it because I didn’t want to be caught- and properly scanned?

They’ll know I’m orange. I can’t tell them the reason why I stopped them is because I didn’t want to be caught as an Orange. So I Ignore any notion of conversation, and leave the others to stew in silence. Sweat beads on my forehead and I tip it back, letting my sticky ponytail tickle my back.

“Do you Lobotomised Mongooses realize how close I was to escaping?!” Cheryl growled. She pressed herself against a snarling Veronica. “Once I’m out of this, you’re dead.”

Veronica chuckles. “Ooh, Bring it on, Cheryl. I’ve always wanted to know if animals could fly.”

Cheryl hissed in reply, as if she really was an animal. But Veronica just laughed. “So, you’re a snake! Makes sense.”

Archie made a growling noise, shutting both of them up. “Can you just let me die in peace?”

“Die?!” Jughead scoffed, tugging on his restraint when he tried to get comfy against the fence. He turned his head, and stared at the redhead. “You’re joking right? They need us for something, otherwise they would have killed us.” After a beat, Jughead cleared his throat. His gaze flickering to mine. “I think Betty did the right thing,” he murmured.

“Really?” Veronica muttered, glancing at me too. “How so, Einstein?”

“We lost control.” Jughead said softly. “I guess I got too..” he shuddered and let out a breathy sigh. “I guess I got a bit excited.”

“Guilty.” Veronica smiled a little. “Did you see me fling that guard in the air though?” she was grinning. “Bam! I threw him halfway across the camp!”

Archie, to my surprise, joins in. “You’re both idiots.” But he was smirking, the corners of his lips teasing a smile. For some reason this angers me. They were reckless. Veronica probably broke about three guards’ necks. But I shouldn’t be feeling like this! I should be laughing with them!

“And when Betty finally blew Pablo’s brains out!” Archie was fully blown laughing now, Veronica and Jughead quickly joining in. I want to scream. I want to cry. No wonder the PSI soldiers took interest in us. How many kids had been chained to the fence and ended up laughing their asses off?

Their laughter is suddenly slicing into my ears, beating against my eardrums. I wince, trying to hide my head away, but there’s no way out. They aren’t normal, I realize. There was a darkness in them, a sadistic kind of humour that made me sick. Suddenly, I want to be as far away as possible from them. I’m supposed to be Orange, the monster. So why did I feel sympathy for the guards, for Pablo?

Shut up. I want to scream at them, or maybe even use my power to really shut them up. Instead I curl up as much as I can, and close my eyes.

I wanted nothing more but to curl up with Archie, Veronica and Jughead, and sleep. Like we did when we were younger. We used to come in from a hard day of brutal labour and sprawl out together on Archie’s bed. We were twelve so there was no feelings and butterflies in my stomach. We’d revel in each other’s company and warmth. Sometimes I’d be lying on Jughead’s chest, my legs on Archie’s knees and Veronica’s head nestled in Archie’s lap while she dangled her bare toes in the air, giggling. “Your feet stink, Veronica!” Jughead would complain and we’d all laugh. Veronica did have pretty smelly feet as a kid. Maybe our generation had developed stinky feet, as well as insane powers that turned us into not-quite-humans and defy the laws of human nature.

If my generation have taught me anything, though. We can defy human nature. We aren’t even god damn human. Archie calls us Human.2. He’d heard one of the soldiers say it when we were younger and he couldn’t get enough of the name. He thought it sounded like we were superhero’s. That one-day we might not be feared by our own parents, by the adult population, and they’d finally let us embrace our powers. Use them for good. There had to be a positive to altering people’s minds. Maybe people might want you to get rid of the bad memories? Archie had told me, a few years ago. When I was still scared of my powers.

Though all of that, all that ‘We can use our powers for good’ stuff. That was all Archie. He used to lie awake at night, trying to come up with positives for our situation. And even the group optimist, Veronica, had thrown a pillow at him.

I wasn’t sure anymore, though. I wasn’t sure if Archie still wanted to use his powers for good, after how we had been treated over the last seven years. He’d been so obsessed with trying to find a use for my power, and even gone as far as building scenario’s out loud. He’d say I could grow up and become a doctor. Though we still had the minds and intelligence of children. So Archie’s description of my future job was wobbly and didn’t make much sense. But a little part of me loved it. A little part of me, the human little girl I’d been back then, embraced the idea with a heavy heart.

“You can become a doctor!” Archie had been lying on his bed, leaning on his headboard, Jughead sprawled over his chest. The raven haired boy had his legs in the air and occasionally brought them down to kick Archie’s feet which were also dangling. The two of them seemed to think it was hilarious. Though we were thirteen, there was no sexual tension or weird looks that I sometimes notice flitting between them now. It was just two boys lying on top of each other trying to beat the cold winter chill which the thin blankets they provided us with, couldn’t do.

“Doctor?” Jughead had brought his head up from where he’d had it resting on Archie’s folded arms. “What will becoming a doctor do?” he quirked an eyebrow at Archie. Who smiled, not even hesitant in his explanation. “Well, Betty can get rid of memories, right? So what if there’s a dad or a mom who have, like, I don’t know, bad memories or whatever. Maybe their pet died? Anyway, so yeah. She can do her thing and get rid of the bad thoughts, or the bad memories of the person they lost.”

“That’s stupid!” Veronica had giggled. She had been cross legged on my bed and had been in the middle of delicately painting her nails with some black ink she had swiped from a soldier’s pocket. I’d been watching in tense silence, as she blotted a dollop onto her finger, her gaze flickering to me as a smirk grew on her lips as she stroked her index finger she had covered in ink, gently over each nail on her right hand. She had turned to the boys, rolling her eyes. “Are you kidding? They would never let us out of this shithole, never mind letting Betty here become a doctor!”

Veronica enjoyed to mimic the soldiers. Her latest word had been shithole. Which she used in almost every single conversation. I just thought she was trying to act grown up. Especially with the nails.

Archie just giggled. “Betty’s smart.” He said. “I remember when she correctly pointed out Britain on the world globe in...” he trailed off, and Jughead snorted. “In Kindergarten?” he laughed when Archie tried to shove him off his chest. “Yeah, I bet she was a whizz back then.”

“We all were.” Veronica grabbed my hands gently before I could resist- I wasn’t keen on the ink. Plus, it looked hard to get off. But you didn’t argue with Veronica Lodge. Especially when she was your best friend. Veronica giggles softly. “Betty, Chill.” And she stills my shaking hand by placing her own on top of it as I place it palms down on the rough mattress of my bed.

“Anyone got any stories?” Archie says, and then yawned. Jughead groaned, lifting his head up for a second as he sent a teasing smile at the redhead. “Please don’t tell the story of how you lost your inhaler again, I’ll literally burn myself alive.”

Veronica’s fingers which were covered in ink gently caress my nails as she does each one, painting them a brilliant ceremonious black. She smiles triumphantly as she finishes my index fingernail perfectly. “I have one!” she finishes my nails and grabs my blanket, huddling underneath it and lying down, her black hair spread around her. I stay sitting up, awkwardly holding my nails at arms length.

“Get comfy!” Veronica ordered, sitting back up, her eyes narrowed in the boy’s direction. “We are.” Archie mumbled. His eyes were shut, and Jughead still lay across his chest, his knees bunched up. “Dude, get under the blanket.” Archie muttered, with a smirk, at the raven haired boy.

“Nope.” Jughead didn’t move. “I’m good here.”“Okay, so!” Veronica had began. “Once upon a time-“

“You told Cinderella last week.” Jughead muttered. “Actually, now I think about it. You tell Cinderella every week.” I held in a laugh as I crawled under the covers. Just in time for Veronica to kick me.

“It’s not Cinderella.” Veronica rolled her eyes. “Anyway, so, Once Upon a Time there was this really cute boy with hair the colour of the Twilight sky...”

Archie choked out a laugh. “Are you talking about me?!”

“No!” Veronica kicked me again when I giggled. “Ow!”

“ANYWAY.” Veronica continued. “So, there’s this cute red haired boy, and he’s really super rich. Oh, and he’s got a sister! They’re twins!”

“I’m intrigued..” Jughead murmured. Archie nodded in acknowledgement. “Keep going!”

Veronica seemed to be practically vibrating with excitement. I grabbed her hand- just in case...she got too excited. I remember the last time. I’d woken up greeting the ceiling. “Okay, so, this boy is rich, and his dad owns like the biggest ever supply of maple syrup ever! Like, it’s insane how big it is, there’s like a huge warehouse his dad uses to hold it all in-“

“Why maple syrup?” Archie asked. Him and Jughead had changed positions, and were now both lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Veronica let out a groan. “I’m getting to that!”

Veronica continued, her voice getting progressively more sleepy as the story went on. She got gasps out of Archie and a laugh out of Jughead. “He was hiding maple syrup from the towns people?!”

“Yes!” Veronica insisted. “Crazy, right? They found him sleeping on his stash, and was automatically taken to prison. The twins lived happily ever after in their big mansion, and the snake found his son.”

“Wait..” Archie sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Really? Where was he?”

Veronica sighed. “I told you! He fell in love with a witch.”

I’d been sitting there silently. Letting Veronica spin out her story, which didn’t exactly make much sense. But I wanted to know more. I wanted to know where the girl’s twin was hiding, why their father was hiding maple syrup- and how did the witch’s mom turn good?

Jughead’s voice was thick with sleep, but he was sat up with Archie, glaring at Veronica, who had a grin stretched across her face. “You can’t end it there! Did the builder survive? And did his son get the rich girl?”

Veronica pretended to zip her mouth and swallow the key, but Jughead scoffed. “You can’t eat the key if you’ve just zipped up your mouth, Veronica! Can’t you just tell us the ending?”

“Maybe tomorrow.” Veronica smiled, before nestling down and laying her head on my chest. Jughead let out an irritated sigh. “Okay, y’know what? We’ll make our own ending! Wont we Archie?”

“Yeah!” Archie grinned. “This time there needs to be Superheroes though, Jug. That one lacked Superman and Spider-man.”

Jughead didn’t answer, but when Archie hissed out in pain before diving on Jughead, laughing and sending playful punches into the raven-haired boy’s back, I presumed Jughead had insulted his idea.

An hour later, the boys and Veronica were asleep. I lay with the girl’s form still sprawled on my chest, letting my fingers tangle in her sleek hair. It was the first time I’d felt it- that pang in my chest. I realized then, at the tender age of twelve, that I was head-over-heels in love with my three best friends.

Veronica never finished the story. I’ll never know if the builder survived.

* * *

I didn't realize I’d slipped into slumber, until someone digs their elbow into my chest, and I spring up with a yell, blinking my eyes open and looking around fearfully. But I find myself staring into the crystal blue sky, the blazing sun still bang in the middle. There were no clouds. How could there be no clouds? My forehead is dripping with sweat and my mouth is dry, my lips feel cracked when I run my tongue over the rough flesh. Jughead is leaning over Archie, his wary green eyes on me. It takes me a few seconds to register that it’s present Jughead. Fifteen year old Jughead. My heart catapults.

Dark Jughead. His expression is wary, almost worried, as he stares down at me. “Betty?” he murmurs, his sooty black fringe still dangles in his eyes. I suddenly get the urge to flick it out of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

I nod, sitting up. Archie and Veronica are in deep conversation, though I’m too hot to grasp the subject they’re babbling about. Cheryl has paused her reign of terror and is simply sitting cross legged like the rest of us in the rough gravel, staring forwards at nothing in particular.

“Yeah.” I mumble in reply to Jughead’s question. He quirks his brow again, a smirk dressing his lips. “You sure?” he cocks his head, and I can’t help thinking he looks adorable. My chest pangs, and I want to scream. I’m a hormonal teenager locked in camp with other hormonal teenagers, who surprise surprise grew up. Did the PSI soldiers not ever think of that? That a bunch of nine year olds might not be so little anymore? Maybe they thought the sickness affected puberty too.

It must be the heat, because Jughead, my best friend since childhood, suddenly looks...not beautiful, like I’d always thought. It was something different.   
Cute. That was how Veronica sometimes described guys she liked. But it wasn’t even that. “Betty.” Jughead murmurs, and I find myself staring at his lips. I start to wonder if they were soft, if they would feel right against my own.

“What?” I grumble a little. I catch Cheryl staring at me, and she must be lucid from the heat, because there’s a stupid smirk curling on her lips. When I frown at her, it morphs into a grin. Too much teeth though. I wonder if she actually adapted animal instincts when she was hiding for so many years. Her incisors are too sharp to be normal. Though maybe that’s how we’ll all end up. Like real monsters. With real teeth. Oh god, I’m drifting off again. The heat is too much. I’m suddenly sure the soldiers have decided to bake us alive. Perfect. Then there will be no mess.

Jughead looks like he might say something, but he decides against it, and with a sigh, leans back against the fence.

“Urgh.” Archie lets out a groan, next to me. “I’d kill for a Pepsi right now.”

I have to agree with him. I haven’t had soda in seven damn years. Mom used to let me have it as a reward every week, if I’d been good. Though Polly would reveal her secret stash of root beer and Pepsi under her bed. I’d squeal with happiness and we’d sit on her bedroom carpet and sip can after can, getting hyper from the fizz and sugar. The image of my sister pops into my head, and my chest aches. She would be nineteen now. I wonder if she’s forgotten about me. Her little sister who stole the attention away from her. I didn’t ask for all of mom’s affection, but for some reason mom hovered over me and not her. Maybe it was because I was the younger one.

The five of us fall into a comfortable silence as we come to terms with the fact that we’re probably going to burn alive. My skin, my whole boy is sticky with sweat. My head pounds and my throat is dry and scratchy. The very thought of water, even if it was happy-drugged water, I’d take it. I imagine kneeling next to the water fountain in the main lobby of the institute, sticking my head under the faucet so my filthy hair dangles under too. Then yank the crappy lever, and open my mouth, letting fresh, beautiful water gush down my throat and splash over my face.

“Cheryl, your powers.” Veronica mutters. She’s wedged her face against Archie’s shoulder to try and escape the heat. “Can’t you- I don’t know, blast us with icy air or something?”

Cheryl chuckles “It doesn’t work like that.” She mutters, and then holds up her own restrained wrist. “Besides, aren't these PSI proof?” she closed her eyes, seemingly concentrating. Nothing happens. She blinks them back open and rolls her eyes, letting her head rest against Jughead’s shoulder. “I’d like nothing more than to turn you into an icicle right now, Jones, But I’m too tired.”

“And I’d like nothing more than to blast you into ash.” Jughead mutters, but he doesn't shrug the red head away.

I close my eyes, ready to surrender myself to the heat. There were times, when I used to love the sun. When I was younger, in the hot weather, mom would bring out the garden hose and let me and Polly spray the flowers. But it always ended up in a water fight. Then, more recently, when me, Archie, Veronica and Jughead were supposed to be planting food in the gardens, we’d taken it upon ourselves, to hide under the shadiest tree, and cloud-watch. We were never caught. The memory is still fresh in my mind, but I don’t delve into it. Not if I’m going to die.

A thought suddenly strikes me so suddenly that I think it’s my imagination. Fire. I squeeze my eyes shut and try and fight the memory, but it surfaces in my mind, playing like a video in front of my eyelids. And I know who's memory it is. I see flaming orange erupting in an inferno, licking over tables and stairs- the distant sound of screaming. It’s from his perspective. The memory stumbles around, just as Jughead does himself, he falls backwards and brings his small hands in front of him. I hear his squeak of horror as he watches billowing reds and oranges ball in his fists, crawl up his arms.

“No!” I yelp, trying to sit up, and between flashes, I see Jughead jumping up, leaning over me. But once his gaze meets mine, his eyes roll back, his head flopping forwards.

My power. How am I able to use it? I try and yank away from Jughead’s mind, but I find I can’t. Instead I’m delving into more, swimming deeper and deeper into his mind as more memories flicker in front of my eyes. I see a tall man with stubble and a kind smile crouching. “Happy birthday, Jughead!” he exclaims, before pulling out a box. Inside is a snake, and the memory bounces back, as if he was scared. No, no, no! I need to get out- I need to- But then I’m seeing myself. I’m seeing my own scared self, a nine year old blonde girl with blood still staining her nose as her tiny feet barely touched the floor of the van. “Betty Cooper.” My nine year old self says, her lips forming a smile small smile at him, or at me. Because I’m seeing straight through Jughead Jones’s eyes.

Then I see Veronica. Veronica Lodge, how small and scared she looked, but her eyes were determined. Her smile strained when she looks at him. “Please don’t sleep on me.” His small, childlike voice booms in my mind, and I want to cry out to him, I want to stop it. But my mouth is locked, my lips sewn shut. Veronica’s sweet smile as she blows strands of her dark hair from her eyes.

And then she’s gone. Blinking out of his memory, like a switch had been pulled.

Please. I beg the monster inside me. The power surging through me, raging through Jughead’s mind and plucking his memories away, like they meant nothing. Leaving him...leaving him like my mother.

I start to panic, but I can’t open my eyes. Oh god, I can’t- I can’t move! My stomach clenches, my chest tightening. It’s just like with mom. Exactly the same feeling. I try and wrench away, try and mentally detach myself away from Jughead’s mind- but my power is already swarming through his memories, grasping hold of his first day at kindergarten, his first birthday. I try and scream, try and claw my way away from him, but I can’t. Oh god, I can’t! I see Archie, little Archie. His bright smile as memory Jughead chases after him, two small hands grasping to wrap playfully around the boy’s neck.

No! I scream it, loud in my mind, but my body is numb. I can’t move. I can only watch as Archie fizzles away into nothing, into atoms. His bright smile, his whole face, breaking away into darkness. And then the fire. Oh god, the fire climbing up and down his hands, burning his father’s house down. That’s gone too. No! Please no! I can’t stop it. I can’t stop it!

Then there’s me. Nine year old Elizabeth Cooper. Her bloody nose and broken smile, the way she smiles at him, makes my heart falter. But his gaze lingers- and then, and then her face is smouldering, like he’s really burning the memories away. Her smile disappears, then her golden ringlets of hair falling in bright blue eyes. And then she’s flashing out of existence.

Except it’s not over. Jughead’s mind feels hollow, suddenly, and wrong. His colour, the brightest pink I had ever seen, dulls to a mellow, colourless ball of light.

But my power is hungry. It’s not done yet. And I can’t stop it. I can’t even move. I’m in Archie’s mind next, picking out his most private memory. His most treasured souvenir kept at the back of his head. It was a sullen looking woman with rich red hair. “Archie, I’m sorry-“ her voice echoes and bounces against my skull and I try and block it out with a screech. But I’m sinking, I’m sinking in my own mind as the monster takes over. Archie’s hands reach out and wrap around the woman’s neck.

“Will you be gone forever?” he sounds younger than when I met him. Maybe five or six years old. The woman only straightens up, her smile straining. “Not long, dear.” She murmurs. And then she’s disappearing out of the door. I know Archie’s crying. I can hear his sobs in my head, drowning out my own. The memory looks up, as Archie finds his father- Fred Andrews standing there. His eyes were swollen red. And the man is suddenly picking the boy up. “She’ll be back.” Fred murmurs against my, or rather Archie’s head. “And until then, It’ll just be me and you, okay?”

I don’t see the rest of the memory, because suddenly I’m in the closet once again- but this time I’m Archie. I’m screaming and crying as a monster, or a soldier, holds me tightly, dragging me away from my father. “Dad!” he screams, and his voice haunts me. His cries of pain as the white noise batters his eardrums. What happens next is inevitable. Because I’m out of control. I can only watch, locked in my own mind, as my power plucks every memory of his father Archie ever had, every happy memory he had, every one of me, of Jughead and Veronica messing about in our cabin. I can only stare as it takes them away, completely wipes him of every memory he ever had of me, of them, of his powers. Even his mother and father.

“I didn’t mean it, mom!” Veronica’s voice, in my head as my power, surges, eats away, gets stronger. I’m in her head now. This time it’s from the perspective of cool, sparkling crystal blue water. I put my hands on my hips, shaking my sleek dark hair from my eyes. “She deserved it!”

“Veronica!” a woman’s voice. And then I see her. She’s tall and beautiful, with long dark hair, a pair of sunglasses sitting on top of her head. She’s dressed in a long white bathrobe. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

Veronica is suddenly looking at her small hands, studying them. Then she lets out a sob, and it echoes in my consciousness. “I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s- what’s wrong with-“

The memory fizzles away, exploding into darkness, before I can watch it all. Though it makes way for my own face, my recent fifteen year old face. I’m smiling at her, and Veronica’s gaze lingers on me as we laugh and giggle, discussing anything from boys to escape. And then my teenage self morphs into nine-year-old-me. The girl in the van. Sat across from her. “Your name’s old.” Her voice giggles, and I watch as my own blue eyes widen, wondering If I should giggle too. In the end I did.

Yank! I feel the memory being pulled away, stolen, driven into oblivion. And then- then it stops. Having finally finished eating way at my friends memories, my power lets me go, as if it had held me in shackles. I feel myself drop forwards, exhausted. I don’t open my eyes- because I can’t. I don’t want to see them. My eyes sting with tears, and with my mouth free, I screech into the gravel until my throat protests.

“Betty!” Cheryl. Her voice slices through my consciousness and I whip my head up, my hair flapping in my face. And then I feel it. I no longer feel the overwhelming beat of the sun on my skin, instead I feel...freezing. I feel the soles of my trainers scratching against the gravel- but there’s a hardness to it I don’t recognise it. My vision is blurry as I try and come back to, and find myself staring at Cheryl’s horrified expression as she stares down at three slumped forms.

The gravel is ice. The thoughts hit me, and let out a breath, staring as the air swirls with a plume of white. “What the hell happened?!” Cheryl squeaked. “Our powers are working!”

There’s a crack as Cheryl snaps her handcuff in half and yanks herself out of her restraints. She stands up, her back to me, while I sit in silence, my chest aching. I want to cry, I want to scream at the sky until my throat bursts. Cheryl pivots on her heel, her relived smile of being free twisting into wariness when she see’s my expression. “What did you do?” she whispers, and before I know what’s happening, she’s kneeling in front of me, resting her hand on the coil of metal restraining my wrist.

The handcuff automatically snaps and I jerk my hand away, letting the useless bit of metal fall onto the iced gravel. Then I realize how close Cheryl is and nearly jump out of my skin, shuffling backwards on my knees. “Get away from me.” My voice is hoarse and edging on hysteria, but Cheryl doesn’t move. For the first time in her life, Cheryl looks...sympathetic. Her head whips to where Archie, Veronica and Jughead, still slump forwards, unconscious. “They just...dropped?” she whispered, her green eyes widening, eyebrows furrowing. “Oh god, what did you do to them?”

I’m about to answer. What with, I’m not sure. When there’s a flash of movement from next to me, and Jughead springs up, eyes wide and unseeing. Blank. My heart drops into my stomach. He’s still the same Jughead. His dark hair still curls in his eyes, his olive skin shining against the sun.

But he’s gone.

“What’s...” his gaze grows frightened the more he registers the situation. He yanks at the handcuff still entrapping his wrist. “What’s going on?” he says, and his voice is different, more childish. He tugs at the fence again, which rattles stubbornly. Then he finally turns to me, his green eyes staring straight through mine. “Who are you?” he squeaks, and his head whips around. “Where am I?”

I hear Cheryl’s breath rattle in her chest and her gaze lands on me, her lips parted in shock. “Betty, what the hell did you do?”

* * *


End file.
